Now It Begins
by Bardess of Avon
Summary: Now it begins, now we start. Seven girls tell their West Side Stories.
1. Prologue

A/N: Though this is by no means the first chapter fic I'm posting on the _West Side Story_ fandom, this is definitely the one I'm most excited about; I think my excitement towards this one actually surpasses my excitement over any of my oneshots, if that tells you anything!

I don't know about you, but the Jet Girls fascinate me endlessly; I've given them names and stories and have studied their behavior so rigorously that I really do think my grades are a poor reflection of my grasp of the subject, and I decided that a story _had_ to be written about them, answering the question: Who are they?

This story centers the main (also known as Alpha) Jet Girls: Graziella, Velma, Minnie, Pauline, Clarice, Bernice, and, of course, Anybodys. The boys will of course make many appearances, as the Jet Girls would quite literally be nothing without the Jets. This story will also detail the events taking place during the movie and even up to a week afterwards. Oddly enough, out of twenty-five chapters, only twelve take place during the actual movie. Obviously, I am enormously fond of these characters.

This story is, as **viennacantabile** so eloquently put it, "pretty much the definitive guide to _West Side Story_." Nearly everything you see here is a collaborative idea on our part. And speaking of whom, I am going to take the time now to honor this lovely lady; this fic would most certainly _not_ have been possible without **Vee**, and I am endlessly indebted to her for the enormous help she's been on this project. This fic is all for you, **Vee** :)

And now, on with the fic! If you have any questions about characterizations or anything else, please do not hesitate to ask me!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is most probably the work of Ernest Lehman, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, and that great man, Jerome Robbins. Anything you_ don't _recognize is most probably a result of **LCV Productions.**

* * *

"_Now it begins, now we start__."_

-Stephen Sondheim

You may think you know us. You may think that knowing our names and our faces is enough; how could our stories be any different from those of our men? What could we possibly have to say that would be of any importance? Do we even matter in the long run?

We were there too, that day and those two nights. People tend to forget that. We were at the gym, the garage, the playground. We saw Riff challenge Bernardo. We saw Tony kiss Maria. We saw him die in her arms twenty-four hours later, and we saw Jets and Sharks both bearing his body away. In the span of only a few hours, we saw two bitter enemies lose all animosity and come together because of the words of a simple girl who was not unlike us.

Our stories are invariably the same, paralleling the one you know so well and at times running together to tell the same thing. But these twenty-four hours changed our lives forever. You may walk away and have learned nothing, or you may walk away and know you have gained something. We make no promises; all we have are our stories and who we are and what we saw.


	2. It All Began Tonight

A/N: And now we're really onto the story now! This chapter takes place before and during the beginning of the dance at the gym, since that's the first place we really see the girls. I tried to give you a pretty good idea of their personalities in this chapter, so I apologize if there are still some details you're not sure about.

Two things I discovered while writing this chapter: First, although pantyhose were not around in 1957 (when this story takes place) and stockings and girdles and garter-belts were the norm at the time, the girls at the dance are clearly _not_ wearing garter-belts. After discussing the matter with **tadsgirl**, she decided that the girls were probably wearing dancing tights, which Hollywood used frequently. So, I decided that the girls of the Upper West Side must have worn dancing tights. Well, it was the best explanation I could come up with, anyway. The second thing I discovered was that I seem to have a fondness for Bernice's swirly dress.

To identify the Jet Girls (other than Graziella, Velma, and Anybodys, who should be obvious): Minnie is the really pretty girl in the poofy dress who is doing the not-grind with Baby John during the grind. Pauline is the girl with short hair and a really short top and low-ish skirt; she also looks like she wants to eat half the boys. Clarice is the really pretty girl with a darker complexion who wears a tan-colored dress and dances with Big Deal, the lucky girl. And Bernice barely shows up at the dance, where she is in her swirly blue dress, but she does make a random, non-dancing appearance at the garage. Anyway, moving on!

As a side note, I've revised this chapter (and will be revising other chapters) due to some changes in characterization.

Huge thanks to **Vee, cookies** and **Meg** for being my first reviewers; it means a lot!!!

* * *

Minnie watched in fascination as Graziella carefully applied a coat of a very pale pink nail polish to her fingernails. Graziella's hair was in curlers (not that she needed it—her hair was curly to begin with, and the only reason she wore them was to make her curls look more tame and to keep them from frizzing or falling limp after the dance) and she was clad in nothing but her tangerine slip, but she looked like an angel to Minnie. "Graziella, how are you always so pretty?" she asked, sighing a little.

Graziella grinned up at her. "Aw, yer just sayin' that."

"No, I mean it," Minnie insisted, failing to realize that Graziella was fishing for compliments. "You always look so pretty every time I see you. It's no wonder Riff loves you so much."

Graziella was practically glowing as she returned to Minnie's fingers. "Well, it ain't easy makin' myself look like this, that's fa sure. But it's worth it," she added.

Velma, who had come in just a few seconds before to ease the curlers out of Graziella's hair, snorted.

"One thing's fa sure; Baby John's gonna _flip_ when he sees ya tonight, Minnie!" Graziella said, giving Minnie another smile before finishing up the last finger.

Minnie blushed. "Oh, um, really?"

Graziella looked up at Velma. "Didja hear that, Vel?"

Velma smiled. "You look gorgeous, Minnie, really," Velma said honestly. "An' yer gonna look even more amazing once ya get that dress on." She eased out the last curler as the phone began to ring. "I'll go get it," she sighed, darting out to placate the ringing phone; she was over there so often that she felt like she lived there anyway. Minnie and Graziella heard her voice soften and they knew she was talking to Ice.

Graziella stood up, stretching out after having knelt in front of Minnie for so long. She took a brush on the counter and hurriedly swiped it through her hair so as not to ruin the effect of the curls. Minnie blew on her fingernails carefully. When she was out of breath, she stood up from the little stool they had brought into the bathroom and shook her hands. She watched Graziella turn her head, examining her hair. "Graziella?"

"Uh-huh?" Graziella touched the palms of her hands to her hair, bouncing it.

Minnie hesitated. "How long did you and Riff start dating before you…_started_ dating?"

Graziella grinned. "Are ya askin' 'bout I an' Riff or you an' Baby John?"

Minnie turned pink. "Well, both, I guess."

Graziella smiled and turned fully to Minnie. "We started goin' on a few dates an' such in ninth grade; nothin' real serious. The summer aftah tenth grade we started seein' a lot more-a each other, an' by the time school started up again, we was official." Catching sight of Minnie's face, she added quickly, "But you an' Baby John've known each other for years; he'll probably ask ya ta be his girl a lot sooner."

Minnie's face cleared. "You think so?"

"I'm positive," Graziella said, nodding sagely. "Now, help me with my hair?"

Minnie beamed as Graziella perched on the chair, chattering about the dance that night.

* * *

"It is too. Damn. Hot."

Clarice Gambini rolled her eyes, brushing out her hair with swift, hurried movements to give it a windswept look.

"D'ya know how hot it is?" Bernice continued. She was lying spread-eagled on her bed, clad in nothing but her underwear and her silken blue camisole. She was still damp from the long soak she had had in the bath that afternoon, and Clarice decided that if any boy saw her lying there, legs spread and scantily-clad and beads of moisture making her body glimmer, he would go nuts. But since it was only Clarice in the room, she again rolled her eyes at her twin.

"No. How hot is it?" Clarice asked without taking her eyes off of her reflection as she began to pencil on her eyeliner.

If Bernice caught the sarcasm, she did not acknowledge it. "It's so hot that if Ice came up ta me buck-naked an' begged me ta ravage him, I wouldn' take him. _That_ is how hot it is."

Clarice couldn't very well roll her eyes, since she was concentrating so hard on not creating any stray marks, but she did allow herself to huff. Ice was hung up on Velma, and even the village idiot knew that was unlikely ever to change. "Yes, well, I _highly_ doubt _that_ would ever happen."

"I know," Bernice sighed, "Ice would never take his clothes off in public."

Clarice would have pursed her lips, but as it is a truth universally acknowledged that no woman can apply eye makeup with her mouth closed, she could not. She finished rubbing it in and leaned back, capping the pencil and storing it back in her box of cosmetics. She pulled out her mascara next. "Are you still wearin' the blue?"

Bernice made a lazy gesture with her hand that indicated an affirmative answer. "Yeah. You still wearin' the one that looks like puke?"

Clarice groaned, swiping the mascara across her lashes. "It does _not_ look like puke!"

Bernice scoffed. "Yes it does. It looks like someone puked an' dried it an' threw it around a dummy an' made a dress out of it."

Clarice carefully blackened the tiny lashes at the corners of her eyes before dignifying that absurd statement with a response. "Bernice. Ya aren't makin' any sense, so kindly refrain from speakin'."

Bernice blew her lips together. "Oh, poo." She sat up, the beads of moisture glimmering as they rolled down her body. She sighed as she stretched her arms up over her body, her breasts protruding farther than normal and her head falling back. Clarice averted her eyes; she hated watching her sister do anything remotely sensual, and right now she was behaving _very_ sensually. Bernice let her arms drop down beside her and reached towards the dancing tights on her bed—they definitely weren't the social norm, but many girls of the Upper West Side found them lovely when they danced. She slipped them carefully over her legs, pulling up her camisole as she did so. Clarice looked away again, spreading a coat of lipstick over her lips and rubbing them together. When she glanced up again, Bernice was pulling on her bloomers. When she was done with this, Bernice got off the bed and padded to the closet, slipping her blue dress off the hanger and stepping into it. She held up the skirt and straightened out her camisole before letting the skirt fall back down, now fitting perfectly against her. She turned her back to Clarice. "Zip me up?"

Clarice sighed and, turning on her stool, clipped the clasp at the top together and pulled the zipper all the way up. She allowed herself to admire the dress as she let her hands fall away. It was a shade of blue Clarice couldn't quite identify (she thought it might be cerulean), smooth as silk but firm as cotton. The neckline, which was perched on top of the shoulders, was ruffled, as was the thick hemline. The dress, when Bernice stood still, looked thin and as if it was not made for dancing; the moment she moved, however, it flared out thanks to some crafty needlework at the lower back. Bernice twirled around in front of the full-length mirror the girls were forced to share, the skirt flying up to her upper thighs scandalously.

Bernice caught sight of Clarice gazing at her and turned, smirking as she jutted a hip out to the side, her skirt swirling as she did so, and dropped a hand on the sinuous curve. "Jealous?"

Clarice scoffed as she picked up the necklace Big Deal had given her for her seventeenth birthday last fall. "Not particularly." She swallowed the derisive comment threatening to spill off of her tongue and reached behind her, trying to find the clasp. She was aware of Bernice's eyes on her, making her fingers fumble.

"Oh, here, let me," Bernice clucked, taking the clasps and binding them. She toyed with Clarice's hair for a moment before letting go and turning on her heel, her dress swishing as she made her way to her vanity and sat down. Clarice bit back a sigh; it had been a long time since the two had willingly helped each other get ready for a dance, and anytime something remotely amiable happened, they pretended it didn't.

By the time Mrs. Gambini knocked on the door to see if the girls were ready, Bernice was wiggling her feet into her shoes and Clarice was checking her hose for runs, so bored was she. She snatched up her clutch and beat Bernice out the door, patting her hair without thinking. She beamed when she saw Big Deal sitting at the couch, visibly tense around his girlfriend's father, who made it no secret that he disapproved of the boy. His eyes met hers as she stepped into the room and his face split into a grin. He stood at the same time as Mr. Gambini, making the difference in height noticeable.

"Now, you kids have fun, but don't stay out _too_ late," Mr. Gambini was saying, oblivious to the delicious shiver coursing between his daughter and her gentleman caller.

"I'll have them back by midnight, sir," Big Deal said, his words directed with all politeness at Mr. Gambini but his eyes still on Clarice.

Mr. Gambini made a noise that indicated this suited him just fine, so Mrs. Gambini ushered the three teenagers out of the apartment. The moment the door had closed, Big Deal's hand, which had been chastely resting on Clarice's upper-back, slid to scoop her waist and pull her towards him. "Baby, you are lookin' _good_," he said with the air of someone digging into a sumptuous feast.

Clarice giggled as she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She had to stand on her tiptoes so that his neck wouldn't ache from bending down so far, but neither was exactly complaining.

Bernice, on the other hand, rolled her eyes in disgust, as if she would never dream of touching another boy. "Get a _room_."

* * *

Ice smiled down at Velma. "Ya look good."

She smiled back up at him. "Ya said that three times already."

Ice swooped down to steal a kiss. They walked on in silence, arms around each other, watching Baby John and Minnie fumble through a conversation—neither had much dating expertise. Riff and Graziella brought up the rear, she yakking his ear off and he strutting and showing off the girl attached to him without really listening to her. Velma glanced around before lowering her voice. "You comin' over tonight?"

Ice smirked down at her. "'Course I am. Although I may be a little late."

Velma furrowed her brow. "Why? Won't we be goin' together?"

Ice hesitated. "There's gonna be a war council tonight. Us an' the Sharks."

Velma glanced up at him, concerned. "When'd ya decide this?"

Ice stroked her back in a placatory manner. "Riff decided earlier this afternoon, after we brawled with the Sharks on the playground. They're askin' for it."

Velma was quiet for a moment. "Well…be careful, okay?"

"Ain't I always?" Ice asked innocently.

Velma gave him a look that told him that wasn't funny. He sighed, his arm slipping around her fully. "I'll be careful, ya know I will."

Velma hesitated before leaning into Ice, watching Baby John hesitate before intertwining his fingers with Minnie's. "I worry about ya sometimes, Ice."

Ice was quiet for a moment. "I know."

And that was all there was to be said.

* * *

Pauline arrived at the dance at exactly 8:07. She wanted to arrive before the other girls—little creeps like Susan and Wilma—snatched up all the good men, as they were known to do. She also wanted to arrive after the dance had opened, just so she wouldn't be one of those squares who actually stood outside and waited for the social workers to open up the big double doors to signal that the dance was starting. Which was why she arrived at exactly 8:07.

Pauline strutted into the gym, hands on her hips, scoping out the room. There weren't any Jets around just yet; just some little kids who thought dates were gross and only came in the hopes that someday they would be Jets. A few of them stared and did not bother looking away when she glanced at them, and this made her hold her head even higher. Some recognized her as being a Jet Girl and called out to her, hoping she could put in a good word for them if they sucked up. Pauline didn't have time for these prepubescent little boys; she belonged to the Jets, body and soul, and would sooner be caught dead than consorting with a non-Jet. That was what separated her from the other girls; the Beta Jet Girls, as Graziella laughingly referred to them.

Glad Hand, who was gallantly attempting to greet each and every new arrival at the entrance, started and practically shook the hand off of the newest arrival. Pauline turned to watch; Glad Hand only got this excited when a Jet or a Shark arrived, because he kept hoping he could dissuade them from a life of crime with a smile and a handshake. Pauline privately thought he was kidding himself, but as long as he wanted to live in his happy fantasy, she wasn't going to stop him. Bernice stepped out from the hall eventually, rolling her eyes and switching her skirt. Pauline groaned; not only were there no Jets, but now she had to beat Bernice to them when they did come.

Bernice spotted Pauline and sashayed towards her, her hips swaying and her skirt swishing around her legs, which attracted the attention of several boys. Pauline extended her hands, which Bernice caught, and they both leaned forward to kiss the air beside each other's cheeks on either side, as was their usual greeting. "Seen anyone yet?" Bernice asked, glancing out at the gym.

Pauline sighed, shaking her head. "Nah, just some-a the Wannabes."

"Well, Big Deal's here, so they shouldn't be too long now," Bernice said, shrugging.

Pauline's eyes snapped out to the dance floor. "Where?"

"Don't kid yerself," Bernice scoffed. "Didja forget he stopped sleepin' with ya the minute Clarice gave him the green light?"

Pauline groaned as she noticed the aforementioned couple twirling around on the floor, grinning at each other like idiots and unable to keep their hands off of each other for more than a few seconds. She almost stamped her foot; why were all the good ones taken? Before she could properly voice her frustration, Bernice nudged her. "Pick-up," she said, nodding at the entrance.

Pauline's eyes snapped towards where Bernice was already gazing. Riff and Graziella were sauntering through the gym, every head noticeably turning to look at them as they passed. Ice and Velma came next, and Baby John and Minnie followed them. "Well, this is just peachy," she muttered.

Bernice jutted out her hip, rolling her eyes. "Tell me about it. I had ta watch _those_ two gigglin' an' kissin' the whole way over here. The other Jets better hurry up."

"Are they all comin' for sure?" Pauline asked, still gazing at the entrance for newcomers.

Bernice nodded. "Big Deal said somethin' 'bout havin' ta be here at ten."

Pauline did stamp her foot this time. "But that's in two hours!"

* * *

There were fewer things in the world Minnie liked more than dancing. It didn't matter who she was with or how well or how badly they danced, as long as she was spinning and twirling on the dance floor. Still, she could not help but feel her heart leap as Baby John tapped Snowboy and, shuffling his feet, meekly asked if he could have the next dance. Because as much as Minnie loved to dance, dancing with Baby John was even better.

Snowboy, unable to pass up the opportunity, grabbed up Baby John and started waltzing with him. "Why, Baby John, I had no idea ya felt this way about me!"

"Not _you_," Baby John protested, extricating himself from Snowboy with a pink face. "_Minnie_."

Snowboy smirked. "Be my guest," he said, prancing away.

Baby John smiled shyly as he held out a hand to Minnie. "You look really great, Minnie," he said for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

She blushed, beaming as she took his hand. "Thanks. You look pretty sharp, too." She noticed a cut on his left cheek that she hadn't seen earlier and gasped. "Johnny, you're hurt!"

He looked worried for a moment before relaxing and reaching up to gingerly touch the cut. "Oh, that? That was just from earlier today." Although he spoke modestly, a note of pride could be detected in his voice.

"What happened earlier today?" Minnie asked, spinning out and then spinning back in.

"We got in a fight with the Sharks. Bernardo cut me," Baby John informed her.

Minnie gasped. "That's terrible! Why?!"

"Because…he's a Puerto Rican. That's just what they do," Baby John said, shrugging. "And now we gotta have a war council with 'em so that they'll leave us alone."

Minnie gripped his shoulder. "Well…be careful, okay? I don't want you to get hurt again."

Baby John nodded. "Don't worry, Minnie, I'll be fine. I promise."

Minnie beamed at him.

* * *

There were several ways to drive Big Deal crazy, and Clarice was doing several of them at the moment; if she didn't stop ghosting a finger over his biceps and murmuring what sounded like very amorous Italian in his ear from her place on his lap, he was going to have to leave the dance a lot sooner than he intended. He was kind of hoping for a distraction, but he was disappointed when one came in the form of Gee-Tar.

"Hey Big Deal…oh, hi, Clarice," Gee-Tar mumbled. He had never quite gotten over her dating his best buddy—_former_ best buddy—despite the fact that that had been almost two years ago.

"Hi, Gee-Tar," Clarice said politely, shifting to a more decent position on Big Deal's lap.

Gee-Tar turned to Big Deal, trying not to notice how very pretty Clarice looked tonight. "Riff say anything ta you yet?"

Big Deal shook his head. "No; Bernardo ain't even here yet."

Clarice furrowed her brow. "What're ya talkin' about?"

Big Deal winced; damn. He hadn't told her just yet about the war council. Unfortunately, Gee-Tar was doing the job for him. "Well, Riff's gonna challenge Bernardo to a war council tonight," he was saying, not noticing the pleading look Big Deal was shooting him. "We're gonna rumble."

Big Deal winced again as he felt Clarice tense. She turned cool eyes to him, putting her hands on her hips. "Oh, _really_?"

"So, uh, didja see Nanette flip out? Man, that was…really somethin'," Big Deal said lamely.

Clarice scooted off of his lap, turning a honeyed smile to Gee-Tar. "How's about a dance, Gee-Tar? An' you can tell me _all_ about this war council."

Gee-Tar's eyes widened. "Really?" he squeaked as Clarice pulled him—rather forcibly—out to the dance floor.

Big Deal scowled. "___Sheiße.__"_

* * *

"You look handsome tonight, Action," Minnie informed her partner, fairly beaming as he twirled her.

If anyone else had said this, Action would have made a snarling comment in reply. However, since it was Minnie, and not even Action could find fault with her, he blinked in surprise. "Well…thanks. Ya look…nice." Those three simple words took enormous effort on his part.

Minnie beamed. "Oh, thank you! Are you here with anyone tonight?"

Action shook his head. "Nah; came alone." He paused, trying to think of something polite to say in return. "Guess you came with some-a the girls."

Minnie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes; Velma and I went over to Graziella's place, and Johnny and Riff and Ice picked us up."

The dance ended, and Action noticed Pauline eyeing him a few yards away. Her lips curled up in an inviting smirk and she threw him a wink. He smirked back at her and then glanced back at Minnie, who seemed oblivious to the exchange. He glanced around and noticed Baby John—the kid had been hovering nearby the entire dance, wanting very badly to dance with Minnie but too afraid of Action to ask if he could take his partner from him. "Hey, Baby John!"

Baby John looked up in surprise and made an expression that clearly said, "Who, me?"

"C'mere." Action tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, but it was difficult. As Baby John warily approached, he pushed Minnie forward. "Here; keep her company. I gotta…take a leak."

Baby John and Minnie looked positively thrilled at this prospect and immediately skipped out to the dance floor, calling, "Okay, Action!" over their shoulders. Action rolled his eyes and turned back to Pauline, jerking his head. Catching the summons, Pauline sauntered over to him, her abdomen noticeably visible between her rather short top and her rather low skirt.

"Ya gonna ask me ta dance?" she quipped, jutting a hip out to the side and dropping a careless hand on it.

In response, Action gripped her wrist far harder than necessary and swung her in a wide loop as he moved away from a wild pair of Sharks nearby. He didn't mind dancing with Pauline—hell, he probably liked her better than any of the other Jet Girls. But the little tramp had to learn her limits.

Pauline smirked down at Action, heart beating slightly faster as they fell into the rhythm of the music. She liked all of the Jets, but Action…well, he was a different story entirely. Her fixation with him ran deeper than it did with any of the other Jets, even Ice. "Comin' over tonight?" she asked huskily.

Action shrugged. "Maybe. There's a war council tonight."

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "Jets an' Sharks?"

"Who else?" Action sneered.

Pauline didn't waste her breath telling him to try to make nice with the Sharks or to ask him not to go or even to be careful—instead, she said, "Kill 'em."

And Action smirked, satisfied that there was one girl in this world, at least, who had a proper head on her shoulders.


	3. Little World, Step Aside

A/N: WOW; last chapter got a better reaction than I could have ever anticipated, which makes me very excited, YAAAAY! Heh, I'm so glad everyone likes Pauline and Bernice; it is enormously fun to write sluts ;) I'm not gonna lie, though; this chapter was probably my favorite to write. I mean, I _loved_ writing this fic, I really did, and it's my baby, but…well, the dance _is_ my favorite part of the movie, so it's only natural it was my favorite part to write. Everything you see here is taken solely from observation. Everything. **Vee **can back me up on this; we have analyzed the movie (especially the dance) to the nth degree. Basically what I'm trying to say is that if the characterization or anything else here bugs you…don't blame me, that's how Jerry designed it.

Moving on! I would like to give enormous, enormous thanks to **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies** for reviewing last chapter; it means so much to me!

And now, on with the chapter!

* * *

"_And when the chicks dig us in our Jet-black ties, _

_They're gonna flip, gonna flop, gonna drop like flies!"_

-Stephen Sondheim

At ten o'clock, the gym was wild with the steady jazz blaring from the record player and the swell of teenage bodies rising and falling with the music. Graziella knew Riff was getting antsy; Tony should be coming any moment now. Graziella was eager to see him as well; Tony had made himself scarce over the past few months and no one had seen much of him. Graziella used to think he was the living end; he was the reason she had lost so much weight, dyed her hair and become a disciple of every teen beauty magazine under the sun. Of course, she had settled for Action and later moved onto Riff, whom she was more than in love with…but sometimes she still couldn't help remembering the thrill the sight of Tony used to give her. _Used_ to.

A semicircle formed around Action and Velma as they broke off slightly from the crowd, falling into a dance of their own. Pauline boldly settled a hand on Ice's waist as she watched her partner steal Velma for a moment, because to Pauline, any moment not spent with a boy was a wasted moment. Ice, not entirely certain of how to react to this, hesitantly let his hand hover just beside her back; this way he was being polite without really having to touch her.

Baby John and Minnie, who had been dancing nearby, saw the small cluster of Jets and their girls and joined in, snapping their fingers and calling out to Action and Velma as Action spun and Velma caught his hand, pulling him up.

Big Deal and Clarice scooted in closer for a look, both a little surprised that Ice would so easily relinquish his girl to _Action_, of _all_ people. They glanced at each other and exchanged smirks when Action and Velma made physical contact and Ice immediately broke away from Pauline and cut in between his girl and his pal.

Mouthpiece and another Jet broke away from the crowd almost as soon as Action and Velma returned to their respective partners, creating their own kooky dance. Bernice, who had been dancing with Mouthpiece, was more than relieved to see him hop away from her; he was a handful. Instead, she danced to the side and watched as another semicircle formed around the dancers, this time comprised of Riff and Graziella, Ice and Velma, Baby John and Minnie, and Tiger and the Beta Jet Girl Marilyn. A-Rab pulled away from Susan (who was dangerously close to whining about how he wasn't paying her enough attention) and hopped into the middle, not really paying attention to the Jet in front of him. Therefore, he was extremely surprised when his foot collided with the Jet's rear and he prepared to round on his comrade—only to discover that it was Anybodys.

"Get outta here!" he snapped, moving to Susan and planting her hips against his as the music came to a slow, intense grind, which most of the couples happily responded to. Anybodys darted away as soon as she saw Mouthpiece's body fly to Bernice's as if magnetized. Pauline happily fell against Action, her skirt riding up dangerously high and her legs spread against his hips more than was probably appropriate—not that Action was complaining.

Big Deal's reaction was enthusiastic; he pulled a willing Clarice to him with one arm, joining their hips as much as was possible through their clothing barrier and delightedly dropping his head to smell her hair as she rested her head against his shoulder, modestly trying to hide just what his touch did to her. A few feet away, Velma spun into Ice, maintaining her balance and her dignity as she and Ice quickly became the only truly vertical couple in the vicinity. Close by, Graziella twirled and fell into Riff with such fervency that he gasped in surprise and nearly toppled over as she leaned completely into him, her arms winding themselves in a stranglehold around his neck. Just as he was getting comfortable, Baby John and Minnie came strutting by, oblivious to the goings-on around them. Annoyed, Riff smacked Baby John's rear, effectively stopping the happily ignorant couple.

The grind rose into the faster beat of before and the firmly-attached couples took a step back to move in time to the music, tapping their feet and making jabbing motions in the air with the beat. As all the other pairs kicked one leg each in the air, Big Deal bent down to grip Clarice's waist as she grasped his leg and shoulder; he swung her legs into the air, her skirt dropping down to reveal her bloomers. It was their own little way of sticking it to the Sharks.

As she was set back down, Clarice watched her sister slip away from Mouthpiece and out of the gym completely…and saw where Bernardo had entered with his arm around a girl in a white dress. She turned back to Big Deal. "Riff's waitin' on Bernardo ta get here, right?"

Big Deal, who was rather preoccupied by the view he was afforded whenever Clarice leaned forward, nodded vaguely. "Yeah."

Clarice jerked her head towards the Sharks. "Well, he's here now."

Her words clicked in Big Deal's head, and he reached over and thumped Action in the arm. "What?" the shorter Jet spat, annoyed that he, too, was being torn from his own rather extensive view of Pauline. Big Deal jerked his head at Bernardo, and Action understood at once. Some of the other Jets and their girls paused as well, glancing from Bernardo to Riff and waiting for orders.

Big Deal, sliding an arm around Clarice's waist, turned to glance at Baby John and jerked his head towards where the Sharks were crowding in around Bernardo. Baby John, catching Big Deal's eye, stopped dancing and slipped an arm around Minnie's tiny waist as he grasped Riff's arm and pointed to Bernardo. "Hey, pick-up."

Minnie and Graziella exchanged glances; they weren't the brightest bulbs in the box, but even they knew that something was about to go down, and they weren't going to like it very much. Minnie's arm went around Baby John, as if hoping to keep him with her, and Graziella leaned into Riff in a way that seemed to say "Don't you dare walk away from me." This idea was shattered, however, when Action came bounding up to Riff. "Riff, Bernardo's here—"

"Cool it, buddy-boy," Riff warned him, disengaging himself from Graziella's death grip and putting a hand on the shorter Jet's shoulder. Ice and Velma, who had been absorbed in one another, looked up at this announcement. The Jets moved forward, slowly assembling in a cluster and gently pushing the girls back as they assured them that yes, they'd be careful, don't worry.

"Whaddya think they're doin'?" Graziella asked Velma in a low voice, their heads bent conspiratorially as they stood off to the side.

"Ice said somethin' about a war council tonight," Velma said darkly.

Graziella looked up sharply. "What?"

Velma winced, realizing Riff hadn't told her yet. "Well…I mean…it was a long time comin'," she added with hasty reassurance. "I mean, we all knew it was gonna happen sooner or later, right?"

"I s'pose," Graziella huffed. "What does he think I am, dumb or somethin'?"

Velma glanced at her. "I thought ya liked it when Riff fights; somethin' about him bein' healthy?"

Graziella huffed again. "I do, but I hate how obsessive he gets before it. It's always rumble this an' rumble that. Thank _God_ he makes up fer it in bed!"

Velma tactfully decided not to reply to this.

As the Jets moved in even closer and the girls were pushed even further back, Anybodys scooted into the middle of them, determined to prove she was not just another girl. No one said anything when she shoved her way to the front beside Action; sometimes, it was just easier to let a sleeping dog lie. Bernardo finally looked up and motioned to the Sharks, depositing the girl in the white dress behind and advancing just as the Jets did in a scene that would've put a western to shame.

The similarity to the OK Corral was effectively shattered when Glad Hand, the President of Squares, scurried into the center of the gym, carefully restraining Riff and Bernardo. "A-a-a-a-all right, boys and girls, all right!"

A chorus of groans immediately proceeded this exclamation; there was no way a challenge could take place with _Glad Hand_ in the way. The Jets threw their hands up in the air in frustration and their girls immediately flocked to them, leaning into them and cooing at them reassuringly. Ice almost immediately beckoned to Velma, who rolled her eyes at Graziella good-naturedly and replied to his summons by taking his hand and following him to a place behind Riff. Graziella, somewhat annoyed that _Riff_ had not summoned _her_, stalked towards him and hung off of his shoulder almost at once, pouting.

"Attention, please! Attention!" Glad Hand called out, trying to settle down the unhappy crowd. The call was echoed and mocked by the sillier of the teenagers, some of whom gave little skips.

"Oh, boy; this oughta be good," Clarice said sarcastically to Minnie, rolling her eyes heavenward.

"At least they're not fighting," Minnie reminded her in an anxious sort of tone, relieved that the boys were simmering down.

Before Clarice could make an adequate reply to this, Big Deal approached her and slid an arm around her back, pulling her closer. She complied all too happily, her arms wrapping themselves around his waist so that she could lean into him.

"Thank you!" Glad Hand said as the chatter died down. Minnie was the only one to offer him a genuine smile, and this heartened him. "My, this is a fine turnout we have here tonight!"

"It's all fa you, Glad Hand," Action assured him in a would-be innocent voice, moving around Riff and Graziella (he hated seeing his captain and his ex-girlfriend so…together) to stand with A-Rab, who promptly used him for an armrest.

The Jets chorused in agreement ("You said it, Glad Hand!" Pauline snickered), chuckling as Glad Hand tried to pretend he didn't notice the mocking in the statement. "I, I, I know, I know all of you boys and girls are here because you wanna make new friends and, uh, get closer to old ones."

"Oh, _sure_," Big Deal muttered, pretending to look seriously concerned. He winked down at Clarice. "How 'bout gettin' closer later?" he asked, blowing a bubble.

Clarice popped it.

"So, so tonight, tonight, kids, we're gonna do something special!" Glad Hand announced, looking positively thrilled. "We're gonna have a get-together dance!"

The reaction was instantaneous. Action and A-Rab shouted, "Ginger! Peachy!" and shook hands. "It's my life's dream!" Big Deal mock-sobbed. Clarice put a hand to her heart and did her very best imitation of an overdramatic silent film actress, causing Graziella to laugh. Riff rolled his eyes at the nuts surrounding him, and only Minnie seemed genuinely excited by this prospect as she whispered to Pauline, who was rolling her eyes and only allowing Minnie to talk because Minnie was the only person who truly tolerated her.

"All right, all right. Now kids, kids, kids" Glad Hand shouted over the mock-cheers, "I, I, I want you to form two circles."

"How many?" Action piped up.

"Two," Glad Hand repeated. "Boys on the outside, and girls on the inside!" he explained, looking absolutely delighted.

"Hey, where are you?" A-Rab wanted to know.

Even Anybodys, who normally tried to find as much fault with A-Rab as possible, couldn't hide her amusement at this gibe. Glad Hand laughed nervously and glanced back down at his shoes. "All right. Now, uh, when, when, when the music stops, each boy dances with whichever girl is opposite. Okay?"

The teenagers erupted in another fit of chatter, some tauntingly repeating Glad Hand and some downright laughing at his stupidity. Tiger leaned back to thump Mouthpiece—who was becoming far too absorbed in Susan—and get his attention. Joyboy muttered something with a devilish grin to Carole, who elbowed him laughingly.

"Well, it won't hurt you to try," Glad Hand said weakly.

"Ooh-hoo! It hoits, it hoits, ooh, it hoits, ooh!" Snowboy exclaimed, staggering into the center of the gym and clutching his gut, much to the amusement of most of the Jets.

"Snowboy." Riff's reprimand was short and stern, and Snowboy immediately returned to his place, where Priscilla promptly wrapped her arms around him. There was silence for a moment as everyone waited to see how long it would take before Glad Hand broke.

And then, without any warning whatsoever, Riff moved forward with even, measured strides, coming to a precise halt and looking as if this was all part of a superior plan. Looking steadily at Graziella, he jerked his head, motioning for her to get the hell over here, he wasn't getting any younger. The chattering had died completely, and all waited with bated breath for Graziella's response.

Not surprisingly, she gave Glad Hand a challenging smirk before sauntering forward, her hips swaying steadily and her chin held high. She loved being the center of attention—which was probably one of the main reasons why she and Riff were together—and this was the perfect opportunity to show off. He allowed her to link her fingers with his, almost like her reward for being a good little girl by letting him flaunt her in the Sharks's faces. Not that Graziella needed any incentive for showing off; it was something she did regularly.

The Jets murmured in approval at this, some even snapping. Minnie and Pauline perked up, hoping they had a chance to dance, too. Clarice dropped one arm from Big Deal and rested a hand on her hip; Big Deal might need to back Riff up, and she would be there without the slightest hesitation. Some of the other girls were looking around now, hoping that they, too, could be one of the Jet Girls to be shown off.

There was a moment's pause, and then Bernardo imitated Riff, taking the same measured strides and coming to a rest just a few feet away. With a flourish, he extended a hand to his girl. With the smallest of pauses, she glided forward, taking his hand with all the grace of a queen as he gently guided her to a spot before him. Graziella scooted an orange foot back so as not to touch Anita, a poisonous simper on her face as she watched the pair. The two leaders snapped their fingers simultaneously, motioning for the other gang members and their girls to circle up.

"Riff, why won'tcha do that with _me_?" Graziella hissed, annoyed that while a dirty Spic received an extravagant flourish, all she had received was a jerk of the head.

Riff, however, was determinedly pretending he hadn't heard her and was instead concentrating on glaring at every Shark who met his eye.

Ice and Big Deal led their girls out to the circle, keeping their hands joined. Carole, after a moment of whispered bickering with Joyboy, stalked out to the circle and looked pointedly at where A-Rab was trying to assure Baby John that just because Action had taken Minnie to the circle didn't necessarily mean that they were dating now. Pauline, too, was eyeing the boys. Carole huffed loudly and cleared her throat, causing the two blond boys to look up at her. Baby John glanced at A-Rab. "It's your turn."

The two boys groaned at their misfortune and Baby John inched towards Pauline, flinching as she smirked and threaded her fingers in his. He dropped his hand almost at once, praying he wasn't going to get Pauline cooties.

"That's it, kids; keep the ball rolling! Round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows!" Glad Hand called.

"I know!" a Shark girl called out.

"All right, here we go!" Glad Hand said. The whistle blew as the last of the teenagers assembled, and a cheesy promenade struck up. "Boys to my right and girls to my left!" Glad Hand instructed.

The couples who were still touching dropped their hands as the boys turned one way and the girls the other. Velma, still watching Ice, nearly walked right into a Puerto Rican girl in red and blinked upon realizing that she had made a mistake. Returning the girl's sneer, she whirled on her heel and marched the correct direction. Most of the girls, Jets and Sharks alike, eyed each other's dresses in distaste and made no move to hide their disapproval of the other. Even Pauline distributed more glares at girls than winks at guys. Only Minnie seemed not to hold a grudge against the Shark Girls.

Graziella grabbed Riff's hand as he passed and only let go when there was no other option. Ice settled for a more subtle approach, his hand loosely grasping Velma's as they passed each other. She noticed then that Anita, who was in front of her, and the brass-haired girl behind her were gesturing at her and calling things to each other in Spanish, and although she couldn't understand them, she knew that tone meant something dirty. "What the _hell_—?!" she was just muttering to herself when the whistle blew again and the music came to a definitive halt.

There was a pregnant pause as everyone glanced at the person opposite them; every single Shark was facing a Jet and vice-versa. A wild mambo sounded and Velma, the first to come out of her stupor, took a step back from Bernardo, planting her hands on her hips and gazing at him challengingly. Furious, Bernardo extended a hand to Anita, who swirled to him in a flurry of purple and pride. Not to be outdone, Riff reached over and snatched up Graziella's hand, whirling her around to stand beside him. The other Jets and Sharks imitated their leaders, pulling their girls away and towards their respective sides of the gym, Big Deal and Clarice being the last ones to join the rest of the Jets.

After a moment's pause, the Sharks whirled around to face the Jets. "Mambo!" they challenged.

"Mambo!" the Jets agreed without hesitation.

"Go!" both sides shouted. Krupke nudged Glad Hand off to the side as the two gangs swarmed the dance floor, their bodies fiercely shimmying as never before. The tension was so palpable one could almost grab a handful of it, but nothing was more intense than the glares Riff and Graziella and Bernardo and Anita sent towards each other; it was an unspoken competition that neither pair intended on losing.

The competitiveness, however, quickly melted as the teenagers concentrated on whirling their partners and stepping in time to the music. Even Action was starting to loosen up under Minnie's influence. The only person who seemed remotely unhappy was Baby John, and that was because he was seeing much more of Pauline's flapping crinolines than he ever wanted to. Graziella started to relax and lose herself in the music; maybe Riff would forget about the whole thing with the Sharks. She just wanted to dance without Riff glancing over his shoulder every five seconds in paranoia.

"Tony!" Riff shouted, startling Graziella. He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the jiving couples towards the taller boy, who waved at them.

"Tony!" Graziella echoed, squeezing his hand in greeting and immediately blushing as she noticed how warm it was. _Stop it, Graz,_ she warned herself. _You're just reacting because you _used_ to have a crush on him. You love Riff._

Tony beamed and greeted everyone as if he hadn't seen them in years, giving a quick handshake to Big Deal and grasping hands with Clarice, who he had forgotten was so pretty. Riff, Tony and Graziella moved towards the platform of the gym to avoid being whacked by any wild dancers, causing more and more Jets and their girls to call out to Tony. No one had seen him in ages, and his very presence sent their hearts soaring; they were invincible now.

"Haven't seen him in forever," Clarice commented. "I wonder where he's been?"

"Workin' fer Doc, I guess," Big Deal replied, a little annoyed as he remembered how enthusiastically Tony had greeted his girl. "He sure seemed happy ta see ya," he couldn't help adding.

Clarice smirked. "Jealousy's a deadly sin, y'know."

"So's lust, an' that's never stopped ya before," Big Deal quipped.

Clarice laughed but immediately looked scandalized as she realized Minnie was only a few feet away. Thankfully, the younger girl hadn't heard anything—she was busy throwing a beam at Baby John, who was trying very hard to _not_ notice just how much Pauline was flaunting in his face.

The Sharks, who had retreated into a huddle, suddenly changed the pace, marching into their own mambo. The Jets and their girls froze in the midst of their twirling, some nudging those who had not noticed. Anybodys, who had been watching from the back, ran up to an oblivious Ice and Velma and grabbed his arm, pointing to the Sharks. "_Look_!" she hissed, peeved for the sake of the Jets' dignity. "_Look_ at 'em!"

Ice, rolling his eyes, patted her mildly on the shoulder and moved towards Riff, who was already motioning for all the Jets to huddle as they formulated a retaliation. Pauline grabbed Big Deal to be her partner—a severely annoyed Clarice grabbed an all-too-happy Gee-Tar to be hers. Riff, Mouthpiece, Gee-Tar, Tiger, a wannabe named Tom, and Big Deal spread out, Graziella, Velma, Clarice, Minnie, a Beta named Wilma, and Pauline standing behind them. "Wha-a-a-a-a-OH!" they shouted, jumping out from the platform. The boys crossed the room in a few strides and turned, allowing the girls to chuck the chins of the Puerto Rican girls condescendingly.

This domination of the floor did not last long; the Sharks broke into the center, surrounding Bernardo and Anita as they flaunted before the crowd, kicking their legs and reveling that they had pushed the Jets to the side. Just as suddenly as they had taken the floor, it was yanked from them as the Jets shoved the Sharks out of the way (Clarice "politely" tapped a Shark on the shoulder before Big Deal yanked him out of the way) and formed their own circle around Riff and Graziella, he flipping with all the skill of a trained gymnast and she an orange blur as she whirled. The Jets clapped in time to the music, cheering them on as Riff slid Graziella and brought her back up, twirling her and laughing. Even Anybodys was following the beat, her face a pleasant change from its usual scowl.

The short hem of Graziella's dress remained airborne nearly the entire time, giving everyone a gratuitous look at her orange bloomers (Clarice, who was wearing a matching pair, wondered if hers looked quite that flashy), and Minnie looked somewhat scandalized as she realized Graziella was showing her unmentionables. But nevertheless, they cheered her on, because dancing was the only way girls could help fight, and they needed a warrior who succumbed to the frenzy of dancing with wild abandon.

Bernice, having heard the mambo from the bathroom, finally gave into her curiosity and left the safety of the girls' room. She gasped upon seeing the wild mambo taking place and scooted in as close as she could, whooping and clapping as if she had been there all along.

"Where ya been?" Priscilla asked her from her right.

"Hidin'," Bernice said shortly, not wanting to socialize with a Beta. She turned to converse with the person to her left—only to discover that it was Mouthpiece. _Lovely_.

The Sharks butted in once more, but the Jets would not surrender completely; instead, the two gangs crowded in, Jets jostling Sharks and vice-versa as each side fought for the center. Bernardo and Anita twirled and tossed each other around, legs flying and her skirt taking on a life of its own. Riff and Graziella, though somewhat less flamboyant than their Puerto Rican counterparts, were an incontrovertible match for the other pair, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with each other and the music. And all the while, the rest of the gym clapped and cheered.


	4. The Air is Humming

A/N: Hello again, my lovelies! Once again, I am extremely pleased with the reactions to last chapter; the dance is my absolute favorite part of the movie, so I was really anxious to see what you all thought! This chapter was _slightly_ less fun to write, but still oodles and oodles of fun. If that, you know…makes sense. I have a tendency to think things and they sound great until, you know, they're out there…um.

Anyhoo, once again, everything you see here is based solely off of observations **Vee** and I have made about the movie. I've done my very best to clarify things (such as where everyone goes during the cha-cha) here, since when the first part of this chapter takes place, the movie is focused solely on Tony and Maria. Also, for anyone who is curious, Nanette is the girl with the odd space-helmet-hairdo and Bernice's outfit from earlier who randomly shows up at the end of the movie and nowhere else. I have fun tormenting her. Alsoalso, props to anyone who recognizes where I borrowed Graziella's signature line from ;)

And now for the REALLY big news: **Vee** and I are going to see _West Side Story_ onstage on Saturday!!!!! We're uber psyched out, of course, so I'll probably be fangirling about it for the next few weeks, heh.

Major thanks to the following lovely ladies for reviewing: **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies**. Your reviews mean the world to me!

* * *

As the music settled into a less frenetic beat, other couples ventured onto the dance floor. Big Deal, who was quite sick of seeing Gee-Tar dancing with _his_ girl, turned to Velma. "Can I ask ya a favor?"

Velma raised her eyebrows. "Depends."

"Distract Gee-Tar fa me," Big Deal requested, eyeing the boy in question with dislike.

Velma sighed. "Big Deal, y'know Clarice's just messin' with ya…"

"_Velma_!" he whined.

Velma rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right, fine!" She moved forward, taking Gee-Tar's shoulder and gently wheeling him around to face her. She smiled. "Wanna dance?"

Gee-Tar was surprised. "Well…sure."

Big Deal took this as his opportunity to grab Clarice's hand and tug her out to the hall. She leaned against the wall, smirking. "Somethin' the matter?"

Big Deal leaned in towards her. "Yeah. I don't like guys messin' with my girl."

Clarice arched an eyebrow. "Maybe I don't like girls messin' with my man."

Big Deal grinned despite himself. "We could mess around later."

Clarice slowly and deliberately wound her arms around his neck. "I like the sound-a that." She stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to his waiting lips.

Someone in the hall cleared their throat. They turned to see Bernice standing at the top of the stairs, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows arched. "Well, ain't that just darlin'?"

Clarice rolled her eyes. "Tailin' me, sis?"

Bernice scoffed. "_Please_; as if I don't got anything better ta do than watch my sister suck face. Nah, I gotta visit the ladies'."

"You were just _there_!" Clarice said incredulously.

"You have any idea how hard it is ta take a pee when Nanette's in there sobbin' 'bout how A-Rab wouldn't date her 'cause he was seein' other chicks?" Bernice scoffed. She added in an undertone, "Doesn't help I'm _one_-a those chicks…I hope ta God she's done by now. Anyway, if you was any kind-a decent, ya'd get back there an' make Gee-Tar stop dancin' with Velma; Ice's gonna have an embolism if he sees 'em."

Clarice rolled her eyes at Big Deal. He grinned and put his arm around her, leading her to the stairs as the sounds of Bernice's heels clacked away down the hall. They descended the steps and reluctantly let go of each other just in time for the cha-cha to die down and the promenade to strike up again. Clarice fell into step between a Puerto Rican girl in a striped dress and Minnie. She caught Velma's eye and winked; Velma rolled her eyes but gave her a small smile before turning back to the march.

She stopped in front of Gee-Tar and smirked; it was just too perfect. He was positively ecstatic to be dancing with her again, and, with a sly wink at Big Deal, she allowed Gee-Tar to scoop up her arms and spin her into the jazz music playing. Big Deal, who was quite annoyed by this turn of events, turned to look at a Beta by the name of Julie. "You wanna dance?" he seemed to demand rather than request.

"Oh, yes," Julie agreed, a bit taken aback as he seemed to march rather than dance them towards where a group of Jets and Sharks were gathering. She hoped he wouldn't step on her feet. Graziella was not faring much better; she had ended up dancing with Baby John, and while he wasn't a bad dancer by any means, he just wasn't _Riff_. Therefore, she was grateful for the interruption that came in the form of Bernardo shouting at Tony.

"There's only one thing they want from a Puerto Rican girl!"

"That's a lie!"

The other Jets were starting to crowd around now, some bringing their girls with them and some outright leaving them behind. Minnie, who hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, bemusedly allowed Snowboy to pull her by the hand towards the commotion.

"Hey look, if you two characters wanna settle this—" Riff was trying to say, but Glad Hand, who had pushed through an annoyed Snowboy and a ruffled Minnie, interjected with, "Please, boys! Everything was going so well! Now come on, we're all here to have a good time!"

Clarice flinched when Gee-Tar, without any warning whatsoever, let out a shrill whistle, alerting the Jets and Sharks gathered around Tony and Bernardo that Krupke and his nightstick were on their way. The group dispersed at once, A-Rab guiding away a sputtering Glad Hand and Baby John feebly attempting to distract Krupke ("So, uh…how many licks d'ya think it takes ta get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop?") as the Jets and Sharks returned to their girls, spinning them away as if nothing at all were the matter.

"What was all that about?" Clarice asked Gee-Tar.

He shook his head. "I dunno…probably somethin' about that war council tonight."

Clarice nodded. "Right, right." She watched one of the Shark boys pull the girl in the white dress away; she was fairly pretty and looked around her own age, maybe a bit younger, and she lacked the hardness in her face that many people in the city bore; obviously, she had not been here long.

Anybodys brushed past Clarice, and she turned to watch as Riff and Bernardo faced each other, each sizing the other one up. Anybodys stood close to Ice, her attempt at trying to appear intimidating failing miserably in comparison to him. Big Deal and Julie moved closer; the more Jets backing Riff up, the better. Not to mention it gave him a clear view of just what Gee-Tar was doing with his girl.

Velma and Graziella, seeing that their guys were all business, sullenly stood off to the side, hands on their hips as they watched Riff and Bernardo exchange a few low and no doubt dark words.

"I don't want _you_," Bernardo sneered.

"I want _you_, though," Riff informed him roughly. He suddenly grinned and extended an arm to Bernardo; Krupke was watching. Gee-Tar, Clarice, Big Deal, Julie, even Snowboy and Minnie shrank back as Pepe and Ice sized each other up. Anybodys followed Riff and Bernardo—she knew she was small and a girl and Bernardo probably wouldn't take her seriously anyway, but she felt a small note of pride in being the one to watch Riff's back. Well, okay, so all the Jets were a foot away, but it made her feel important.

The two leaders threw sharp, cutting glares at each other as they conversed, and the terms were decided in less than a minute. Bernardo turned and strode back to where some of the Sharks had congregated, pulling Pepe with him.

"Ice," Riff called sharply.

His lieutenant was beside him in an instant, patiently awaiting orders. Action joined them as well, once again butting in where he wasn't exactly invited. Pauline eyed him hungrily; she had been partnered with a non-Jet, and while she liked boys in general, she became a bit more picky outside of the Jets.

"The hell was that all about?" Graziella asked, frowning.

Velma shook her head, frowning as well. "I dunno; looks like trouble, though."

"Let's go find out; they gotta tell us _somethin'_," Graziella said, jerking her head towards the boys and starting to move.

"We might not wanna bother 'em, Graz," Velma pointed out half-heartedly, following Graziella anyway.

Graziella huffed. "Well, Riff's gonna tell me, else he ain't gonna have any fun tonight," she said resolutely.

"Graz, I seriously doubt withholding sex fer a night is gonna make him happy," Velma sighed. "It'll probably just piss him off. We should probably just leave 'em alone…"

Graziella, however, marched right up to Riff, who was muttering in a low voice with Ice and Action. She rested her arms on his shoulder and leaned forward, ignoring the eye rolls of Ice and Action. "What's goin' on, daddy-o?"

"Not now, Graziella," Riff said in a distinctly annoyed tone, shrugging her off.

Graziella pouted. "Aw, Riff…"

"I _said_ not _now_," Riff ground out.

Velma tugged on Graziella's arm, sensing a temper tantrum and wanting to prevent it as much as possible. "C'mon; let's go save Gee-Tar from Clarice before she breaks his heart again."

Graziella, looking wounded, huffed but allowed herself to be led away by Velma. "Boys," she muttered. "What does he think I am, dumb or somethin'?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," Velma soothed. "You know how the guys get when this stuff happens. Hell, it's all I can do ta get Ice ta listen ta me sometimes."

Looking somewhat cheered by this, Graziella said, "Let's go stop Clarice before Big Deal breaks Gee-Tar's neck, yeah?"

Velma sighed as she followed her friend. "Yeah, good idea."

Graziella reached over and touched Clarice's arm. She and Gee-Tar looked up in surprise, turning slightly in their dancing to acknowledge Graziella. "I an' Velma are goin' to the bathroom; ya need ta come?" Graziella asked airily, ignoring Gee-Tar completely and focusing on Clarice.

Clarice, knowing exactly what her friends were up to, rolled her eyes and turned to Gee-Tar. "Ya don't mind, do ya, Gee-Tar?"

"Well, I guess not," Gee-Tar began, looking as if he _did_ mind.

"Fabulous," Graziella cut across him, grabbing Clarice's hand and tugging her away. The girls passed by Carole, who was swaying by herself. She tried to catch their eyes as they passed, but they pointedly looked away. "Little tramp, really thinks she's somethin'," Graziella muttered.

"I guess she thinks she's a Jet Girl, now that she's datin' Joyboy," Clarice said reasonably.

"Is that really all it takes ta get in?" Velma asked, shuddering as she imagined Susan and Wilma becoming Jet Girls.

"Vel, ya really think I'd let any ol' wannabe in?" Graziella asked, scoffing at the very idea and pushing open the bathroom door; the girls could sleep with the Jets as much as they wanted, but it was Graziella who had the final say in who was a Jet Girl and who was not.

Velma turned to Clarice. "Y'know, that ain't exactly fair, stringin' Gee-Tar along like that an' makin' Big Deal think ya mean it."

Clarice rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, Vel; Big Deal knows I'm crazy about him, an' Gee-Tar knows it too."

A loud wail broke from the end stall, followed by a loud and rather rude "Shh!" at the opposite end of the stalls.

"Nanette," Clarice said in a low voice.

"How d'ya know?" Velma asked, wondering if they should leave or not. Graziella was unconcernedly fixing her hair, so it must not be very serious…

"Bernice told me; apparently she's upset because A-Rab was, um, seein' other girls. Includin', well, Bernice," Clarice told them.

The stall the "Shh!" had come from banged open to reveal Anybodys, who was scowling. "Yeah, an' she's been wailin' all night," she said loudly, yanking on a faucet as she washed her hands. "Shut the hell up!" she snapped as Nanette let out another sob.

"Don't be so concerned, Anybodys, I'm sure she'll be fine," Graziella said dryly, not glancing away from her reflection. "Anyway, it's not like ya care; ya never did give a damn about anything feminine. Like bras, fa instance. I mean, not that ya _need_ one or nuthin'…"

Anybodys, glaring at Graziella, shook her still-wet hands at the older girl. Graziella shrieked as she felt cold water droplets all over her and batted them away, as if this would do any good. Anybodys cackled to herself and darted out of the bathroom.

"Little creep!" Graziella exclaimed, checking her reflection to make sure it had sustained no damage.

Velma rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Graz, I think she'd be halfway nice to ya if ya didn't antagonize her."

Graziella gaped. "_Antagonize_ her? Vel, she _hates_ me! She's as likely ta push me off the Empire State Buildin' as help me!"

Velma decided not to point out that this was probably because Graziella was the very epitome of everything Anybodys hated and flaunted it frequently; instead, she turned to a second mirror, checking her own hair. "So…anyone see that girl with Bernardo tonight?"

"Who, Anita?" Graziella asked scornfully.

"Nah, the other one; white dress, kinda short, big doe eyes," Velma reiterated.

"I saw her," Clarice said, nodding as she, too, fixed her hair—it was contagious. "She looked kinda young…"

"Aw, who cares?" Graziella piped up. "She's just a PR." She sighed, deeming her reflection as good as it was going to get. "I'm gonna go talk ta Riff."

Velma and Clarice exchanged glances before hurrying after her. "Graziella…"

Riff and Ice were still talking, looking slightly less grave than before but still tense. Riff was muttering, "Let's get the chicks an' kick it," when Graziella marched up. She opened her mouth to say something when Riff, noticing her, said, "You ready?"

She looked dumbfounded at his easy attitude but nodded happily. "Yeah, just lemme get my clutch." She snatched it up off the table and allowed Riff to pull her out of the gym.

The corner of Ice's mouth quirked up as he looked at Velma. "Wanna cut outta here?"

"Aren't ya havin' a war council with the Sharks or somethin'?" Velma asked.

Ice shrugged. "It ain't 'til midnight; we got time." He extended a hand towards her. "C'mon; let's split."

Velma grinned and took his hand, pausing only to grab her clutch. She waved at Clarice, who winked at her. The brunette leaned against the wall, fanning herself off; she did not have long to wait before Big Deal approached her, looking the slightest bit frustrated. "We gotta talk."

Clarice smirked. "Why is it I get the feelin' we won't do much talkin'?"

Big Deal sighed. "Clarice, I'm serious; ya keep leadin' Gee-Tar on, an' it's drivin' us both nuts…"

Clarice wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes. "Aw, baby, you know yer the only guy fa me."

"Why don'tcha tell that ta Gee-Tar?" Big Deal grumbled.

Clarice stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. "I have, an' he still won't back off—it ain't _my_ fault."

"It is too yer fault when ya keep flirtin' with him an' makin' him think he stands a chance," Big Deal snapped.

Clarice, not to be deterred, played with his tie. "Can I make it up to ya?"

Big Deal smiled despite himself. "What didja have in mind?"

Clarice grinned. "Let's go outside an' I'll show ya."

His annoyance with her gone completely, Big Deal willingly allowed himself to be led outside.

* * *

"Why'd ya push me away earlier?" Graziella wanted to know almost as soon as she and Riff spilled out of the gym, pouting. "What am I, dumb or somethin'?"

Riff ran a hand through his hair. "'Cause I was busy an' this ain't playin' patty-cake. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I ain't mad atcha."

Graziella, deeming this answer an acceptable one, leaned into him. "You gonna rumble?" she asked, voice tinged in excitement. It was true that she hated how Riff talked nonstop about rumbling, but it was also true that she _loved_ how hot and bothered he got afterwards.

Riff sighed in relief, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Probably. We're havin' a war council at midnight at Doc's."

Graziella glanced up at him. "You be careful, okay?"

"Graziella," Riff sighed again.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up now; I just want ya ta—"

"How 'bout you shuttin' up an' lettin' yer mouth do somethin' else?" Riff suggested, pulling her into an alley and promptly attaching his lips to hers.

Graziella sighed and wound her arms around his neck.


	5. Better Go Underground

A/N: I know that I normally update on Thursdays, but as **Vee** and saw _West Side Story_ onstage on Saturday night, I just _had_ to honor the occasion with a new chapter! The production was…okay, at best. The orchestra was terrible and the stage space was small, so there was like NO dancing, but some of the characters were really good. Riff was a good actor but bad singer, Tony was a good singer but bad actor (he had an awkward Puerto Rican accent; more so than Maria, for that matter, who resembled Alice in Wonderland), Action was pretty cool, Velma seemed to be channeling Graziella but was hysterical, and Chino was HILARIOUS, and Anybodys? PRETTY MUCH AMAZING. She sang the "Somewhere" piece (which, sigh, had no dancing), and the actress who played her was really nice. The girl who played Rosalia was epic, and she acted like Rosalia in real life, and Vee and I loved her to bits, heh.

ANYHOO, moving on! Some parts in this chapter were borrowed from the novelization; three cheers if you recognize where. Also, I used (usually) very reliable online translators for much of the French and Italian used here, but I do apologize in case something is incorrect about them.

Mucho gracias to **Vee, cookies,** and **Meg **for reviewing last chapter! Hope you ladies enjoy this one as well!

* * *

Eleven-thirty found most of the Jets assembled at Doc's, each impatiently awaiting the arrival of their leader and the Sharks. Clarice, much to Big Deal's relief, was comfortably situated in his arms and not taking any notice of Gee-Tar's attempts to get her attention—though it was not for a lack of trying on his part. Minnie and Baby John were sitting on the steps leading into Doc's, shyly stealing glances at each other as the ice cream cones Baby John had bought for them gradually disappeared. Pauline and Bernice made sure they were in the center of things, surrounded by the boys and in plain view. It was obvious from Action's body language that he fully expected Pauline to wait up for him, and she was certainly not refusing him. Bernice was eyeing her options; she liked all of the Jets, but she _especially_ liked blonds.

In fact, it appeared that the _only_ Jet Girl who was present but not otherwise occupied with a Jet was Anybodys; the tomboy was climbing the enormous iron gate that led to the little flat above Doc's store, trying to prove her strength—not that anyone was watching. Well, except for A-Rab, but it was only to make snide remarks about her being a wannabe and a freak and how she'd never make it into the Jets. He was replied to with several nasty (but admittedly clever) remarks and the occasional middle finger, which, for some reason, made him cackle.

The talk mainly revolved around the impending war council and subsequent rumble sure to follow. The Jets were ready, practically bouncing in excitement, and even the girls were giddier than usual.

"Is there anythin' we can do?" Bernice asked, her offer sounding innocent enough but her fluttering eyelashes and sinuous body giving it a new meaning entirely.

"Plenty, but it'll keep 'til after," Action, who was itching to break a bone or five, quipped.

"Ya think you'll have the strength?" Pauline asked, eyebrows raised and smirk challenging.

"Enough ta make ya yell 'enough!'" Action said, giving her rear a firm squeeze.

"You know what's great about Superman?" Baby John asked Minnie, ignoring the others as they rolled their eyes at the mention of his favorite superhero. "He don't need any weapons at all. All he uses is _this_." He flexed an arm as impressively as he was able to. "He can knock down walls an' everythin'!"

"You don't say?" Minnie asked, wide-eyed.

"I do so say," Baby John said proudly. "Hey, let's get inside while Mrs. Haunted House is up in her nest."

"I hoid ya, ya stinker," Anybodys snapped, dropping onto the pavement. "I got as much right ta be here as you an' I'm willin' ta prove it."

A-Rab took a swig of his Coke, watching her. "How come ya look so starved? Don'tcha ever go home?"

"The answer ta that is _no_," Anybodys scoffed.

"Can't ya tell? She spends all her time tryin' ta get in the gang," Baby John reminded A-Rab. "OW!" For Anybodys's knuckles had cracked sharply across his head.

"Go ahead, tell Superman I clobbered ya one an' I'll do the same ta him," Anybodys snapped, climbing up the fence again.

Clarice used the distraction of Anybodys to stand on her toes and whisper in Big Deal's ear, "Y'know, if Bernice finds a date tonight, I'll have the room _all_ ta myself."

Big Deal did not miss the implication in her tone. He grinned, tightening his arms around her waist. "Wouldja, now?"

"Uh-huh," Clarice said, looking up at him through dark lashes. "But _only_ if she gets a date."

Big Deal, glancing around, disengaged himself from Clarice and slipped over to Mouthpiece. He clapped a hand on the other Jet's shoulder, leaning in to murmur, "Say, Mouthpiece…I think Bernice is inta you."

Mouthpiece, who had been made a Jet more for his brawn than his admittedly small brains, perked up; Bernice wasn't Velma, but she was still a pretty girl. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Big Deal said, nodding sagely. "I'd get on that if I was you, buddy-boy."

"Okay!" Mouthpiece agreed, trotting to Bernice.

Smirking, Big Deal returned to Clarice, looping his arms around her waist again. She beamed up at him, wrapping her arms around his own waist. "I love you."

Gee-Tar scowled.

* * *

Riff grinned as Graziella pushed him into the wall and promptly reattached her lips to his; she wasn't the most docile of chicks, but she sure made up for it at moments like these. Her hands reached down and fumbled with his belt. He groaned and grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

"Aw, Riff," she began, pouting.

"Much as I'd love to, babe, we gotta get goin' in a little bit," Riff reminded her, wishing he knew what time it was. He decided that he would have to roll a drunk for his watch sometime soon.

Graziella sighed, reaching up to pat her hair. "Oh, poo. Lemme fix my face."

Riff rolled his eyes but waited patiently as she pulled out her compact and touched up her makeup; he wanted the Sharks to see her, see how they made them in America. It was physically impossible for a well-stacked chick Graziella to ever go unnoticed, and Riff wanted to make sure those dirty Spics saw what he had—and what they didn't. When she was finished, Riff grabbed her hand and pulled her along. "C'mon."

They turned a corner and heard the Jet whistle—pausing, Riff returned it. Ice and Velma rounded the corner, each taking their good sweet time and looking supremely unconcerned.

"Headin' over ta Doc's?" Ice asked, not removing his arm from Velma.

"Yeah," Riff replied, returning his own arm to Graziella's shoulders. "It's gettin' close ta twelve, an' if anybody's missin'…"

"Heads're gonna roll," Ice finished for him, knowing that he would be asked to employ his Glare.

Riff nodded. "Yeah. Action's probably brainwashin' 'em now," he added in a dark mutter as Ice and Velma moved ahead of him and Graziella.

* * *

Joyboy was the last of the Jets to appear, looking more than a little annoyed.

"Where ya been, buddy-boy?" Tiger asked.

"Droppin' off Carole," Joyboy mumbled. Since she was not officially a Jet Girl, Carole hadn't been allowed to come to Doc's, something that peeved her terribly; Joyboy, unfortunately, had received an earful about it upon walking her home.

"I guess she thought she oughta come too, huh?" Pauline snorted.

"Ya just gotta tell her, Joyboy; if she wants ta get in, she's gotta put _out_," Bernice said with an air of supreme unconcern for the reaction she was getting. "I mean, except fa Minnie, obviously."

Clarice huffed; she didn't much care what Bernice said, but it was a different matter entirely when innocent little Minnie was around. "_Zitto, sarà possibile?!_" she hissed.

Bernice rolled her eyes. "_Oh, mantenere la calma_," she chastised, flicking the extra ash out of her cigarette. "_I_ think ya worry too much," she added in English.

"Well, _I_ think it's time for alla youse chicks ta cut out," Action said loudly, cracking his knuckles; he had been growing steadily more impatient, and nothing annoyed him more than chicks talking too much. "That includes _you_, Anybodys."

Anybodys dropped from the fence, scowling. "I ain't one-a yer broads an' ya ain't makin' me leave."

A-Rab swooped a hand down to goose her and cackled as she swung at him, cheeks red and jaw set. "You little—!" she snarled, hawking a rather large loogie at his feet and receiving several groans of disgust from the girls.

Clarice sighed, murmuring, "See ya later," to Big Deal before stepping back, grabbing her clutch off the candy display. "It _is_ gettin' late," she said loudly, knowing that Action was in no mood to be trifled with—he looked as if he would clobber the next person to approach him.

"Yes; daddy will probably start worrying about me," Minnie sighed, standing up and smoothing out her rather poofy skirt.

"Are ya comin', Bernice?" Clarice asked, crossing her arms as she waited for her sister.

Bernice, who had been whispering something in Mouthpiece's ear and giggling, trailed a hand down his arm before sashaying towards her sister. Clarice took Minnie by the arm and started away, Bernice following them. Pauline threw a not-very-subtle wink over her shoulder at the Jets before sauntering after the other girls, her hips swaying in a very exaggerated manner. Big Deal ran a hand through his hair; _damn_, but Clarice was looking good tonight.

"All right, all right," Action said, snapping his fingers. Riff was the captain and Ice was widely regarded to be his second-in-command, but when neither was present, Action took charge. "Now listen. There ain't gonna be enough room in Doc's fa alla us an' alla the Sharks—coupla guys're gonna hafta split."

No one dared volunteer, because they all wanted to be there for the war council; besides, offering to leave showed signs of weakness. Even Baby John was hoping he wouldn't be sent away. Action didn't mind this at all, though; it meant he got to give orders again. "You," he pointed at Mouthpiece, "an'…you." He jerked a thumb at Big Deal, who was the next person he saw. "Youse two gotta go."

This suited Mouthpiece fine and dandy, and though Big Deal would've liked to have stayed, he was secretly glad, because this way he could see Clarice sooner than expected. Satisfied, he plopped down on the comic stand outside Doc's, pulling out a deck of cards and playing with them.

"That still leaves, what, ten-a us? If Tony shows up," Snowboy piped up, once more fiddling with his transistor radio. "An' alla the Sharks might show up."

Action considered this. "Okay, okay; Joyboy, you be the outside lookout."

"I thought _I_ was the lookout," Gee-Tar whined from the post on a stoop he had taken when he unofficially made himself the lookout. He glared as Joyboy took a seat a few steps below him.

Action threw him a withering glare. "You can lookout from inside, if it bothers ya s'much," he snapped.

This suited Gee-Tar just fine, and he returned to looking up and down the streets for a sign of Riff or the Sharks. The conversation lulled, occasionally being punctured by Tiger and Mouthpiece as they skipped coins across the pavement or by Big Deal ordering Baby John to pick a card, any card. Action paced up and down the sidewalk, and his state of agitation was so great that Tiger and Mouthpiece didn't dare ask him to move out of the way of their game. Several moments of this silence stretched on until Action, unable to take such serenity, burst out with, "Where the devil are them Sharks?!"

"Maybe they're too chicken ta show," A-Rab, who was twisting his now-empty Coke bottle around in his hand, said from his perch on the fire hydrant.

Snowboy, who had his transistor radio pressed against his ear and was straining to hear the music, rolled his eyes. "Aw, we got time, A-Rab; Riff an' Ice ain't even here yet."

"Come on, come on, come _on_," Action muttered.

"He don't use a switchblade," Baby John suddenly piped up, sounding awed.

"_What_?"

"Well he don't even use an atomic ray gun!" Baby John added, causing Big Deal and Snowboy to turn their attention to him.

"Who don't?" Snowboy wanted to know, peering over Baby John's shoulder at what he assumed was a newspaper.

"Captain Marvel!" Baby John answered, gazing admiringly at the comic book as Big Deal and Snowboy made faces. "Gee, I love him!"

"So marry him!" Action snapped, definitely _not_ in the mood to put up with such childish antics. There were skulls to crack, for Pete's sake.

Anybodys dropped down off the gate and onto the pavement, ready at a moment's notice to prove why she should belong to the Jets. "I ain't never gonna get married; too _noisy_," she informed the Jets, wanting to impress upon them that just because she was a girl didn't mean she had to act like one.

"You ain't never gonna get married; too ugly!" A-Rab taunted, snickering with the other guys. He got a vindictive pleasure out of making fun of Anybodys; she was his favorite target.

Anybodys, who had mounted an empty stoop, made her signature "gun" and fired it at A-Rab. "POW, POW!" she shouted, her high-pitched voice echoing off the street.

"Wacko jacko!" A-Rab exclaimed, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Down goes a teenage hoodlum!" He spun to the ground and splayed out, spread-eagled.

"Gee!" Baby John exclaimed, standing up. "C-could a real zip-gun make ya do like that?" he asked, grinning as A-Rab jumped up and gave him a playful shove.

"No, but the zip gun could make _you_ doo," Anybodys told him in disgust, waving her hand as she turned and walked away. "You better wear _diapers_."

Baby John, a little bit embarrassed at this gibe, said, "Aaah, go walk the streets like ya sister!" Though he shared a grin with A-Rab, he felt guilty for saying it; he knew that Anybodys's older sister, Sissy, was only a streetwalker to support her and Anybodys. She had always been a nice girl, especially to him—still, he was a Jet, and Anybodys was the prime object of mockery for the Jets, and like it or not, he had to make her life miserable.

Anybodys, infuriated, whirled around and glared at him, her small chest heaving. "Listen, jailbait, I licked you twice an' I can do it again!" she snarled, lunging and taking him down. She grabbed at his limbs and grappled with him, ducking his hits amidst the shouts of the other Jets.

Ice, who had just walked up with Velma, followed by Riff and Graziella, jogged forward to extricate Anybodys from a panicked Baby John. "Come on, Anybodys, knock it off," he said in an annoyed tone, grabbing her arm and spinning her away from Baby John.

Riff lightly pushed her to the side, acting as if she did not even exist. "Okay, cats all present an' accounted for?" As the Jets chorused in response, Graziella rested her arms on Riff's shoulder, showing just _who_ was the Queen Bee here. "Hey, I'm really proud-a ya, buddy-boys; ya done good at the dance tonight."

"So where _are_ they?!" Action exploded, impatient with the easygoing talk.

"Unwind, Action!" Riff reprimanded, looking annoyed with his inferior's inability to keep calm. "Any sign-a Tony?"

"Invisible, man," Action sneered, turning and pacing up and down the sidewalk again.

"Hey Riff, whaddya think the Sharks are gonna ask for? A-Rab asked, excited to sink his fists into some flesh.

"Mercy."

The Jets sniggered at this; Riff always knew what to say.

"Just rubber hoses, maybe, eh?" Snowboy piped up, smirking. Even Anybodys, who was still attempting to get over the injustice of having been shoved to the side, chuckled at this.

"Relax, little man!" Riff resisted the urge to roll his eyes—God, but they were wound up tonight.

"You tell 'em, daddy-o," Graziella purred, looking as if every other girl in the world would've killed to be in her place. Considering the scowl Anybodys tossed her way, this wasn't too far from the truth.

"I'm ready!" Action burst out.

"Easy, cool," Ice warned him, also finding Action's aggravation old.

"Ooh, ooblie-ooh!" Velma piped up, snapping her fingers playfully. It was an inside joke she had with Graziella, something that only made sense to them and made them sound like idiots to everyone else.

"Chung-chung!" Action continued, ignoring Ice's warning.

"Cracko-jacko!" A-Rab added, startling Baby John and Snowboy.

"Ooblie-ooh!" Velma said again, giggling with Ice as they leaned against the candy display.

Anybodys, seeing her opportunity, bounced in front of Riff. "Riff, look, in a tight spot, yer gonna need every man you can _get_—"

"_No_," Riff told her firmly, giving her a light push on the shoulder. Anybodys wasn't a bad kid, really; she was like a sister to him, and she had a damn hard punch. But still, she _was_ a girl; she should be wrapped up in some Jet's arm right now instead of breaking it.

Graziella stood beside Velma, resting a hand on her shoulder as she indicated Anybodys with her clutch. "An American tragedy!"

"POW!" Anybodys shouted, firing her gun again.

"Oh, poo!" Graziella snapped, waving the younger girl away with her clutch.

"Ooblie-poo," Velma teased, giggling with Graziella at their nonsense.

Seeing that they were in a good mood, Riff decided now was the best time to inform the girls, "Hey look, when the Sharks come, you chicks cut out, eh?" He said it delicately, wincing as soon as he saw Velma pause in the process of checking her reflection and turn to stare at him.

"We might, an' then again, we might not," Graziella said with a very superior-sounding voice, smirking at Velma, who smiled and nestled into Ice's arm.

Riff leaned in, trying very hard not to snap at Graziella; they fought like cats and dogs in private, but he was _not _going to set an example in front of the Jets that encouraged them to treat their girls like crap. "This ain't _kid_ stuff, Graziella."

Graziella turned to face him, resting a perfectly-manicured finger on his chin. "Mm, I an' Velma ain't _kid_ stuff, neither. Are we, Vel?"

Velma stood upright. "No thank you, ooh, ooblie-ooh," she said, punctuating each "ooh" with a snap.

"An' you can punctuate it," Graziella teased.

"_Ooh_," Velma obliged, jutting out a hip. The two girls collapsed in giggles, leaning back into their boyfriends.

"Aw, what're we poopin' around with dumb broads?" Action snarled, eyeing the girls in disgust. Riff shrugged as if to indicate he had no control over the whims of women.

Insulted, Graziella put a hand on her hip and scowled. "I an' Velma ain't _dumb_," she snapped, both of the girls rigid and glaring at Action. To the side, Anybodys rolled her eyes and made a "puh" noise as she waved a dismissive hand.

"Hey, the bulls!"

Sure enough, a patrol car driven by Officer Goddard—Minnie's father—pulled up, Krupke lumbering out of the passenger seat. "Hey you!" he shouted, glowering as his call was repeated and mocked by the Jets.

"Well, top-a the evenin', Officer Krupke," Riff called in a would-be genial voice.

Krupke ignored him and pointed a sausage of a finger at Baby John, just as Goddard had instructed him to do; this kid had taken Minnie out tonight, and George Goddard would be damned if Baby John Kowalski thought he was going to pull a fast one or whatever the hell the kids were calling it today. "_You_."

"Who, me, sir?" Baby John gulped.

"Yeah, you. Didn't'cha hear me?" Krupke wanted to know.

"Well, yessir. Well, I got twenty-twenty hearin'," Baby John said as innocently as he could, earning a giggle from A-Rab.

"Then why didn't'cha answer me?!" Krupke barked.

"Oh, his muddah told him never answer back to a cop," A-Rab informed Krupke, laying on the baby blues.

Krupke jerked forward, causing A-Rab to duck and move around him. The other Jets shifted defensively, even Anybodys—she hated A-Rab, but still, she wasn't going to just stand by and let a Jet get it. "You little wise apple, you want me ta run you in?!"

"Indeed not…_sir_," A-Rab sneered.

Krupke fixed his eyes on the rest of the Jets. "I oughta run _all_ youse punks in. What're ya standin' around here for, blockin' the sidewalks?"

"Well, ya see, sir, we're _afraid_ ta go home," Riff explained, moving to the stoop and consequently elevating his height. "It's such a bad environment."

"We don't get no _love_ there," Ice added, putting on his best puppy-dog face. Velma pretended to sob and buried her face in his jacket.

"Oh, it's _awful_," Snowboy lamented. Now all of the Jets had their best pouts on their faces, looking as if they could've been the poster-boys for any charitable organization.

"If you don't leave us stay out on the streets all night, we liable ta toin into a bunch-a juvenile delinquents!" Action said in a long-suffering voice. The other Jets murmured in agreement ("Happens all the time," A-Rab agreed sagely).

"Listen, I know youse guys was cookin' up somethin' at the dance tonight, so don't think youse-a gonna put nothin' over on me," Krupke warned them, puffing out his chest to assert the authority he thought he had.

"Hey, sergeant, come on, quick, we got a 10-13!" Officer Goddard, satisfied that his daughter was _not_ fraternizing with the group of hoodlums, put the car in gear as Krupke lumbered back to it, calling over his shoulder, "Now go on, get a move on, alla youse! An' don't lemme catch none-a yas around here when I get back!"

Action tore after the car as it pulled away. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" He stopped, pointing at the car. "You forgot ta say goodbye!"

"Ah, them head-busters ain't got no manners," A-Rab sighed, shrugging.

Tiger whacked him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. "'An' don't lemme catch none-a youse around here when I get back!'" he said in a very good imitation of Krupke, causing the Jets to grin in appreciation.

"They treat us like we ain't even yooman!" Snowboy said, laughing as Tiger hit him with his newspaper.

"Geeze, he was pretty mad, huh?" Baby John said nervously, still unable to shake the image of Officer Goddard glaring at him.

"So what happened? A big fat nuthin', right?" A-Rab reminded his pal, looking highly unconcerned as he patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, but, s-s'pose he comes back while us an' the Sharks are havin' the war council—" Baby John protested.

"We'll snow him some more!" Riff cut him off, sounding as if he had everything under control. "See, them cops, they believe everything they read in the papers about us cruddy JDs. So that's what we give 'em; somethin' ta _believe_ in."


	6. We Ain't Kiddin'

A/N: I suppose I should start this chapter off by saying that this was an _incredibly_ hard chapter to write. As we all know, most unfortunately, people do not break into spontaneous song and dance on a regular basis. If they did, my high school experience would have improved marginally. So the question arose of how on earth I was going to do "Gee, Officer Krupke." Thankfully, the song is pretty close to dialogue, so I suppose it wasn't as hard to explain as, say, "Tonight" or something. Still, people do not, unfortunately, expertly rhyme when they speak, so I had to do something. I've turned the song into dialogue as best I can without messing it up too much, which is why some words have been deleted/added/switched around. So I apologize in advance, because I am apparently not very good at turning song lyrics into everyday conversation.

On a happier note, **Vee** officially holds the title as the Most Amazing Individual in the World, because she discovered a video of the Original Broadway Cast (well, most of them, anyway) plus Tucker Smith performing "Cool" on _The Ed Sullivan Show_! LIFE IS BASICALLY COMPLETE NOW.

Danke schön to **Vee, cookies,** and **Meg** for the epic reviews!

* * *

"Hey you!" Tiger shouted, still imitating Officer Krupke.

Riff put on his golly-gee face. "Who, me, Officer Krupke?"

"Yeah, _you_!" Tiger agreed, pointing at him with his newspaper. "Gimme one good reason fer not draggin' ya down to the stationhouse, ya _punk_!" He punctuated the last word with a smack to Riff's head.

Riff fell down to his knees, his clasped hands held up imploringly. "My dear, _kindly_ Sergeant Krupke, ya gotta understand, it's just our upbringin' that makes us get outta hand! Our mothers are all junkies an' our fathers are all drunks…why, golly-Moses, _naturally_ we're punks!" He leaped to his feet as Big Deal put a comforting arm around him.

"Gee, Officer Krupke, we're so very upset," Big Deal added.

"We never had the love that every child oughta get," Mouthpiece sobbed, causing Big Deal to pat Riff's head lovingly.

"We ain't no delinquents!" Big Deal shouted.

"We're just misunderstood!" Mouthpiece cried, echoing the excuse they so often made to the adults.

"There's good deep-down inside-a us!" Riff shouted.

The Jets all echoed him, dancing with each other as if there was no greater delight in the world. Graziella, rolling her eyes, grabbed Velma's hand and pulled her to stand beside her on the fire hydrant, watching the boys play around.

"That's a touchin' good story!" Krupke-Tiger bawled.

"Lemme tell it to the WORLD!" Riff shouted, raising up his arms hopefully.

Tiger hit him with the paper again. "Just tell it to the judge!"

They scrambled around for a judge before Snowboy pulled on his jacket backwards and leaned out of the window. Riff took a seat on the stoop, swearing over the imaginary Bible Big Deal was holding out as Mouthpiece and A-Rab took notes. Snowboy banged his Coke-bottle gavel on the candy display. "What is the meanin'-a this here juvenile delinquency?"

"Yer Honor, my parents treat me rough—I don't get none-a that marijuana they're always puffin'!" Riff sighed in a long-suffering voice. "They didn't wanna have me, but here I am; with a home life like that, it's no _wonder_ I'm bad!"

"Right!" Snowboy turned and pressed his nose to Tiger's. "Officer Krupke, you're really a square!" he shouted, making the shape with his fingers. "Can't ya see that this boy can't be straightened out by the law? He needs psychological attention!"

"I'm distoibed!" Riff shouted, alarmed.

All of the Jets repeated this sentiment, some shouting out and some picking nits from each other's hair. Snowboy banged his Coke bottle on the candy display. "Hear ye, hear ye! In the opinion-a this court, _this_ child is depraved, on account-a he ain't had a _nor_mal home."

"Hey, I'm depraved on account-a I'm deprived!" Riff shouted gleefully, silencing when Snowboy took the paper and whacked Riff with it.

"So take him to a head-shrinker!" Snowboy glanced around before pointing at Action. "_You_!"

Big Deal tossed his joke glasses to Action as the Jets scrambled around again. Action settled on the stoop, crossing one leg over the other, as Riff laid down on the comic stand. "My daddy beats my mommy an' my mommy clobbers me," Riff explained, trying not to laugh as A-Rab began nervously sucking on his tie. "An' my grandpa is a Commie, an' my grandma pushes tea! My sister wears a moustache an' my bruddah wears a dress—d'ya think that's why I'm such a gosh-darned mess, doc?"

"Yes!" Action exclaimed in a German accent, standing up and jabbing a finger at Tiger. "Officer Krupke, he shouldn't be here!" here, he gave Tiger a sharp slap to the cheek. "This boy don't need mental help; all he needs is a useful career! Society's played him a terrible trick, _und_ he is sociologically sick!"

The Jets cried out that they were all sick, and Mouthpiece threw back his head and began shouting to the heavens, only coming back to reality when Anybodys pointed out that Riff had spread out on the ground and Action had put a foot on his stomach. "In my opinion, this child does not need to have his head _shrunk_ at all. Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease."

"Hey, I got a social disease!" Riff shouted, his head falling back as he was once again reprimanded by the newspaper. Gee-Tar put an arm on Baby John's shoulder, biting his nails in mock-anxiety.

"_Really_?" Velma asked quietly.

Graziella, catching her meaning, flushed. "Oh, be quiet," she hissed.

"So, take him to a social-vurker," Action continued.

Big Deal, who himself was German and a smart-ass, piped up. "Vich vay?"

"Dat vay," Action said, pointing to another stoop.

A-Rab, who had taken off his jacket, hurriedly tied it around his waist as an apron and settled on the first step as Riff knelt before him and the Jets crowded around. Riff grabbed A-Rab's face. "Dear, kindly social-worker, they tell me ta get a job," he dropped his hands to A-Rab's shoulders, and the younger boy delicately removed them, "like a soda-jerker, but that means I'd be a slob!" A-Rab wiped his face clean of any spittle. "It ain't that I'm antisocial or nuthin', I'm just anti-work, which you think means I'm a jerk!" he wailed, running his hands through A-Rab's hair. It gave Anybodys a vindictive kind of pleasure to see A-Rab looking so uncomfortable, even if it was all in fun.

A-Rab squeaked and shoved Riff off the stoop. "Officer Krupke, _you've done it again_! This boy will never find an honest job; you just need ta lock him up!" he griped, giving Riff's cheek a sharp slap as he pointed him to the gate. "He ain't misunderstood; through an' through, he's just no damn good!"

"I'm no good? I'm no good!" Riff cried.

The Jets, imitating A-Rab, smacked their hands as they all lamented that they, too, were no good. Tiger opened the gate, allowing Riff to spring out, but his tie was promptly grabbed by Snowboy, who whacked him with the paper as he shouted, "The trouble is he's lazy!"

Riff and the paper were thrown to Joyboy. "The trouble is he drinks!"

Then Baby John, "The trouble is he's crazy!"

And A-Rab, "The trouble is he stinks!"

Then Mouthpiece, "The trouble is he's growing!"

And Action, "The trouble is he's grown!"

They turned to look imploringly at Tiger, and Gee-Tar shouted, "Krupke, we've got our own troubles!" before he and Mouthpiece tossed Riff to Tiger, who miraculously caught him.

Action got on his knees, clasping his hands. "Gee, Officer Krupke, we're down on our knees!"

"'Cause no one wants a fella with a social disease," Riff piped up. Tiger promptly dropped him in disgust.

"Gee, Officer Krupke, what are we ta do?" A-Rab asked, popping back up.

"Gee, Officer Krupke," Riff said, pulling the paper out from under his arm and whacking Tiger on the head. "Krup _you_."

Everyone laughed as Tiger fell over and moved to surround him, patting him on the back and chattering. Doc came out of the store, smiling at them. "Curfew, gennulmen…and ladies," he amended, catching sight of Velma and Graziella as they grabbed their clutches. Ice extended a hand to Velma, guiding her up the stairs and into his arm as they moved into the candy-store and to a back table. "Aren't you up a little late, Baby John?"

"I got insomnia, Doc; too many worries," Baby John replied, grabbing a comic.

"Any-a you seen Tony tonight?" Doc asked, straightening up the papers and comic books on the stand as Big Deal and Mouthpiece set off down the street and Joyboy moved to the corner, keeping his eyes peeled for the Sharks.

"You betcha we did," Anybodys said derisively, heading inside and leaning against the pinball machine. She loved Tony, almost as much as she loved Riff, but she was miffed that he had kissed off the Jets so suddenly and without any warning tonight at the dance. Seeing Velma clamber onto Ice's lap, she smirked wickedly. "So, uh, Velma, I saw ya dancin' with Gee-Tar earlier."

The couple ignored Anybodys. Huffing, she turned around as the others filtered into the store.

"He was supposed ta clean up the store," Doc was saying outside.

"Hey, so maybe he decided ta clean up the PRs instead," Baby John said as he entered the store.

"Tony?" Doc asked in amusement, smiling at Riff and Graziella as he followed Baby John inside.

"Hey Doc, you ain't gonna close up now?" Riff seemed to say rather than ask, arm around Graziella.

"I'm not?" Doc figured it was just better to roll with the boys than to put up a fight; it wasn't like he had anything better to do, anyway.

"Listen, we got a war council here," Riff informed him very importantly. Graziella perched up on a stool, selecting a piece of candy from the tray as Riff rested his hands on her waist and leaned against her.

"A who?"

"To datoimin weapons; we're gonna set up a mix with the PRs," A-Rab explained, moving to play the pinball machine.

"Weapons?" Doc repeated, looking almost disgusted. "You couldn't play basketball?"

"Aw, get with it, bustah," Anybodys admonished, gripping the pole supporting the ceiling and leaning against the pinball machine as she watched A-Rab play.

"You don't understand," Action said, trying to impress the importance of the thing on Doc. "We got special _business_ comin' here tonight." He resisted the urge to shoot a glare at Ice and Velma, who were busily engrossed in one another and were not at all concerned with the war council.

"Makin' trouble for the Puerto Ricans?" Doc challenged.

Action blew out a puff of smoke. "They make trouble fa _us_."

"Fa you, trouble is a relief," Doc snorted.

Feeling that Action was not doing the gravity of the situation sufficient justice, Riff said, "We gotta stand up to 'em, Doc—it's important."

Doc threw a rag over his shoulder and leaned forward, choosing to ignore Graziella's own challenging gaze. "Fightin' over a little piece-a street is _so important_?" he mocked.

"To _us_ it is!" Action snapped from where he was collecting darts off the board.

"Ta _hoodlums_ it is!" Doc corrected, coming around from behind the counter.

Action jerked around. "Who you callin' hoodlum?"

"War council—"

"Don't start that."

"Rumble—"

"Didja hear me, Doc?"

"Why, when I was your age—"

"When YOU was my age?" Action exploded, his voice taking on an intensity that made everyone freeze. "When my ol' man was my age, my bruddah was my age…_you_ was never my age, none-a ya! An' the sooner you creeps get hip ta that, the sooner you'll dig us!" He finished this speech with a hard throw, the dart landing firmly in the board.

Doc, undeterred, moved back behind the counter. "I'll dig ya an early grave, that's what I'll dig."

A-Rab, annoyed with the dark mood, snapped his fingers and gave the pinball machine a hard jolt, jolting Anybodys a little as he did so. "Dig, dig, dig."

The Jet whistle, courtesy of Joyboy, sounded from just outside the store. Everyone whipped around to look at the entrance as the Sharks entered cautiously—even Ice and Velma jerked apart to watch. Anybodys, knowing that the girls would be sent away now, slid down the pole and huddled behind the pinball machine, knowing that if she stayed still and quiet long enough, Riff would find out she was there too late and he would just _have_ to let her stay.

Sure enough, Riff moved around to the end of the counter, looking at Velma and jerking his thumb behind him. She slid off Ice's lap obediently, taking careful steps through the Sharks and out the door. Graziella had a little more trouble with compliance; she stood up and only gave Riff a challenging look when he jerked his head at the door. Face impassive, he gave her rear a sharp pat. Annoyed, she moved away, slipping through the Sharks and taking great pains not to touch any of them.

There was one girl missing, and Riff knew exactly what she was doing. He rested his arms on the pinball machine, looking down at Anybodys, who was gazing down at her lap as if praying. He rapped the machine and her head shot up to look at him. He jerked his head towards the door and she held up her hands imploringly, eyes begging him to let her stay. He jerked his thumb at the door and she thumped her fist against the machine, standing up and stomping out from her hiding place. She turned to shoot Riff a rueful look before shoving aside all the Sharks. She grabbed a particularly sissy-looking one at the back, his eyes going wide, and gave him an extra-hard push, much to Gee-Tar's amusement—which he quickly masked. She threw one more venomous glance at the Jets before storming out.

Joyboy gave her his wolfish grin as the door shut behind her. "Riff kick ya out?"

"What d'_you_ think?" Anybodys snapped.

"Aw, don't worry, Anybodys; Graziella an' Velma got kicked out, an' they actually put out fa the Jets," Joyboy said, fairly snorting at his own joke.

Anybodys swung at him, missed, and settled for glaring at him. Joyboy didn't normally get on her nerves, as a rule, so she would let him go with a warning. Now, if it had been A-Rab…"Yer real funny, y'know that? You oughta go put grease on the floor-a the old folks home or somethin'."

"Aw, go on home 'fore ya get caught tryin' ta eavesdrop, otherwise we'll _both_ get in trouble; you fa eavesdroppin' an' me fa lettin' ya."

Anybodys's mouth fell open. "How didja…?" She shook her head. "Never mind. I'll see ya."

"Unfortunately," Joyboy said, but he made sure to say it so that she wouldn't hear.

* * *

After Pauline had parted with them a couple blocks from her apartment and they had dropped off Minnie at her place, Clarice and Bernice were left alone as they walked home.

"I take it Big Deal's comin' over tonight?" Bernice drawled, pulling out her compact and touching up her makeup.

Clarice watched her sister with something like disgust. "Yeah. I hope ya don't mind." She said this last part without any feeling whatsoever; she could care less if Bernice minded whether or not Frankie came over.

Bernice shook her head slightly as she fixed her lipstick. "Nah, I'm goin' over ta Mouthpiece's place. He ain't got a lot in the way-a brains, but he makes up for it in other…areas."

Clarice made a face. "I did _not_ wanna know that."

Bernice laughed. "That's right, I forgot what a prude ya are. Well, not that _prudish_…" she amended, tilting her head to look at Clarice.

Clarice caught the implication and blushed, as Bernice knew she would. "I ain't a _prude_…I just…I have some _dignity_ an' _modesty_, which I understand are foreign concepts ta you."

Bernice snorted. "Oh, honestly, stop bein' such a baby. I ain't hurtin' no one, am I?"

"I guess not," Clarice agreed reluctantly. "But ya makin' me start ta wish we weren't related."

Bernice rolled her eyes and moved to open the door to their building.

"I thought you were goin' over ta Mouthpiece's," Clarice said, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Bernice scoffed. "Please, an' risk ma an' dad flippin' their lids? I'll come in an' we'll tell 'em we're goin' ta bed, an' then I'll sneak out. Piece-a cake," she added, snapping her fingers.

"An' what if I tell Mama an' Papi that yer sneakin' out?" Clarice challenged, her hands falling to rest on her slim hips.

"Then I'll tell 'em that you was plannin' on havin' Big Deal come over ta do the dirty," Bernice retorted without missing a beat.

Clarice huffed and punched the button for the elevator. They answered their parent's questions with an exhausted air, making sure to yawn frequently and finally tell their parents they were very tired and were going to bed—they had learned to become cool liars after spending so much time with the Jets, people their parents certainly did not approve of. Bernice spent about two minutes in the bedroom spritzing more of her perfume on her (it was, unsurprisingly, called Anticipation) and fixing her hair and makeup before climbing out the window. "See ya," she called gleefully, climbing down from their fourth-story window.

Clarice rolled her eyes at her twin and sighed as she dropped down onto her bed. Her legs were sore and her feet were begging to be released. She slipped off her shoes and gave another sigh of relief as she did so. She leaned back and pulled off her bloomers and dancing tights, reveling in the way the air hit her legs. She stretched and lay down, twirling her hair absentmindedly in her fingers and closing her eyes.

.

"Clarice?"

Her eyes slowly opened. She realized that her fingers were still in her hair and that she must have fallen asleep. She sat up, noticing that Big Deal was sitting at the window, watching her with his usual gaze that made him appear as if he knew something amusing. She smiled at him, stretching. "How long have ya been there?"

"Just a few minutes." He stood up and came to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

"What time is it?" she asked, smoothing down her hair and hoping it wasn't messy. She had already been caught falling asleep; how attractive was she to him now?

"Eh, quarter after twelve, maybe," Big Deal said with a shrug, watching her smooth out the creases in her dress. It was obvious his mind was on other things.

Clarice paused. "Have I been asleep that long?"

Big Deal rested a hand on her thigh and stroked his thumb. "Are ya tired?" he asked gently.

Clarice sucked in her breath, amazed once more at his ability to drive her crazy with the simplest of motions. "No," she said at once, scooting closer.

Big Deal grinned. "Damn, you are one sweet chick. Y'know, I thought I was gonna hafta clobber Gee-Tar if he didn't lay off."

Clarice unpinned his tie and smirked up at him. "Well, I'm all yours now," she purred, giving his tie a tug and bringing his face down to hers.

"_Damn_, baby, just…_damn_," he murmured during a pause for breath, shrugging out of his jacket. The hand on her thigh carefully pushed back her skirt, his hand skimming the bare skin. She gave a small sigh at the contact and, tugging once more on his tie, pulled them both down on the bed.

* * *

Most girls would scream and have a fit if a dark silhouette appeared in their window while they were undressing for bed. Pauline, who noticed the shape in her mirror while she was pulling off her tights, lazily rolled her head over her shoulder and smirked, her leg still propped up on her bed and her skirt gathered around her upper thigh. "Well hi, Action."

"Ya busy?" he asked, climbing fully into her room.

"Would it matter?" Pauline said rhetorically, eyeing the tense way he held himself, his face hard. He was frustrated, and there were two ways he liked releasing frustration. Pauline loved one of those ways.

"Hell no," he scoffed.

Pauline smirked again and let her foot fall to the floor, the skirt dropping back to her knees. Action watched her with his hard, dark eyes, anger and hate for this whole fucked-up world roiling in his eyes. She wound her arms around his neck slowly, languorously, and pressed her lips to his, her tongue flicking out to tease him. The effect was instantaneous; his hands gripped her waist so tightly that she knew she would feel it in the morning, possibly even have bruises. His muscles were knotted against her hands. He deliberately ground his hips into hers, and Pauline let out a noise of delight. She shed his jacket and tie with no trouble and pulled off her top. He made no move to help her, choosing to watch her with those dark eyes. She made to untuck his shirt, but his hands gripped hers with bone-crushing force.

"No."

Pauline glanced at him; it was not time for that. Not yet. She read it in his face and slowly, tantalizingly, sank down to her knees. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she reached for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling open the button and zipper. His eyes stayed on hers; he would not be the first to look away. Pauline smirked up at him before leaning forward.


	7. No Morning Star

A/N: I would just like to start this chapter off by saying that though _West Side Story_ did indeed come on TCM the other day, it was an enormous letdown, because the picture quality was quite awful and the Jets? Were not as hot as they are on DVD. Also, the sound quality made me cringe. But anyway, that was my completely pointless story of the day.

So, I feel like I should apologize in advance for A-Rab in this chapter, because he is extremely nasty and I do not like him at all here. Unfortunately, he commandeered my keyboard, so I pretty much had no decision in the matter.

Also, part of this chapter is borrowed heavily from the novelization, because it was one of the few good parts and I really felt that it should be included somewhere, so…I included it here.

Also, Russ Tamblyn is adorable as a young mountain man. Just saying.

Anyway, major thanks to **Vee, cookies,** and **Meg** for the reviews; it means so much!

* * *

Anybodys stood up as she saw A-Rab pass by, tossing an orange and catching it. "A-Rab…"

A-Rab jerked and nearly dropped the orange, grappling to catch it. "_Geeze_, Anybodys, what're ya tryin' ta do, gimme a heart-attack?"

"Sorry," she said quickly, not really meaning it. "What's happenin' tonight? Are we rumblin' with the Sharks?"

"_Ice_ is havin' a one-on-one with Bernardo," A-Rab answered, tugging off part of the peel of his orange. "Under the highway, probably 'round nine. An' if they try anything lousy we'll cut 'em down."

"Whaddya mean, a one-on-one?" Anybodys wanted to know, indignant as she trotted after A-Rab. "That's lousy! We oughta light inta those dirty Spics!"

"Yeah, the _Jets_ oughta," A-Rab agreed, emphasizing the word "Jets." "Which is why we're bringin' weapons, just in case, an' why yer gonna stay at home like a good little girl."

Anybodys scowled. "I'm just as good as a Jet, an' since we all know Tony ain't gonna show up, I might as well take his place—"

"Don't kid yerself," A-Rab sneered. "Even if there was only two of us, you ain't never gettin' in the gang, ya dig?"

"I will so get in the gang!" Anybodys snapped. "Just you wait an' see!"

A-Rab cackled. "Babe, only way _you're _gettin' in the gang is if ya let the _gang_ in yer _pants_."

Anybodys reddened. "Shut the hell up."

"Well, it's true." A-Rab let his eyes rake over her body, smirking as she blushed and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. It was just so damn _easy_, and what with the rumble tonight and all, his inhibitions were considerably less in number. "'Course, ya'd hafta start at the bottom an' work yer way up, probably in one night. Don't worry, babe, I'll go easy on ya; I just wanna blow—"

WHACK.

A-Rab yelped and grabbed his nose. Normally, Anybodys would've just lunged at him and started hammering her tiny little fists against his chest, but today she had full-out punched him in the face. Of course, he normally didn't take his wisecracks _quite_ as far as he had today. His nose didn't feel broken, but it was bleeding like hell. _Damn_, that girl could pack a punch.

"_Don't_ call me babe," she hissed, her breath ragged and her eyes on fire. "An' don't _ever_ say that again." Unable to form anymore coherent words, she turned and sprinted down the street.

* * *

"Hiya, Doc," Bernice greeted carelessly, sliding into a stool after giving her usual air-kiss greeting to Pauline.

"You wanna soda or somethin', Bernice?" Doc asked, giving her his typical weary smile.

Bernice shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't; gotta watch my figure."

Pauline, who was browsing through a magazine and dragging leisurely on a cigarette, snorted. Bernice shot a glare at her. Doc rolled his eyes as he returned to organizing the cabinets. "I'll never understand girls an' these complexes they have about their looks. Believe me, honey, the _last_ thing ya gotta worry about is yer figure. Tony! Tell Bernice she don't need ta worry about her figure."

Tony, who had just come in from an errand, blinked in surprise before obediently turning to Bernice. "Yer figure's just fine. Not sure why yer worried about it, ta be honest…"

"She's afraid she ain't gonna get a date tonight," Pauline informed the men, smirking.

Bernice frowned at her, a little miffed that Pauline had to say that in front of _Tony_. "I s'pose you've already got a date?"

Pauline's smirk only widened. "Well, when _don't_ I?" she asked loftily, looking smugger than should be legal.

"That's what I'd like ta know," Bernice muttered. "Well, do _you_ got a date, Tony?"

"Tempting as that offer may be, yes, I do," Tony replied, his voice light and happy enough to make the girls wonder who this girl was.

"Who is it?" Bernice asked, intrigued and perhaps a little jealous.

"That's fer me ta know and you ta find out," Tony answered in the same candor-filled tone, whistling as he grabbed another delivery and practically danced out the door.

"Oh, poo," Bernice said, waving an impatient hand and turning back to Pauline. "So, what'd ya find out last night?"

Pauline exhaled a stream of smoke and moved her cigarette to her other hand, turning to face Bernice. "So. Apparently our resident delivery-boy came in late fa the war council an' convinced Riff an' Nardo ta have a fair fight."

"Ya mean a one-on-one?" Bernice interrupted, frowning. "How's that a rumble? An' I thought Riff hated fightin' alone."

"I'm gettin' ta that," Pauline said languidly. "Riff decided our best man against the Sharks' best man. A-course they picked Bernardo, but Riff picked Ice fer our side."

"Smart move," Bernice murmured. Riff could swing with the best of 'em, but _nobody_ pushed Ice's buttons, and for _very_ good reason. She frowned. "Wait a second…if Ice's the only one rumblin'…"

Pauline scoffed. "Don't be dense; ya really think the Jets are just gonna stand by an' let Ice have all the fun? They'll get in on it, some way or another."

Doc made a sort of snorting noise in his throat. Pauline turned her head to examine him. "Somethin' botherin' ya, Doc? I mean, besides all the rantin' ya were doin' earlier about rumbles an' war councils an' teenage hoodlums?"

Doc threw her a withering glare. "Well, no one listens ta me, do they?"

Pauline rolled her eyes at Bernice. "If ya say so. Listen, ya still got that Black Cherry bubblebath?"

* * *

Clarice deposited the cradle of the phone on the floor, keeping the receiver to her head. "But Minnie, _all_ the Jets are meetin' up with their girls aftah the rumble, an' I _know_ Baby John wants ta see ya."

"Oh, you don't know that," Minnie protested softly on the other line.

"Oh, yes I do. Frankie told me so," Clarice lied. Well, it was half-true; Big Deal _had_ mentioned that Baby John might get so excited after the rumble that he'd probably grow the nerve to ask Minnie out. So it was partially true.

There was an intake of breath. "Really?" Minnie asked in an awed voice.

"See, Minnie, this is why ya _have_ ta be there aftah the rumble," Clarice reminded her friend. "_All_ the Jets are takin' their girls out tonight."

"Where's Big Deal taking you?"

Clarice flushed and was very relieved Minnie could not see her. "Um, well…we're not exactly…well, he's comin' over here."

"Oh, I see! Are you making him dinner?"

Clarice hesitated. She'd offered to make something for Big Deal (as she had a feeling that he wouldn't exactly want to take her out afterwards), but he'd told her not to worry; the rumble was at nine, and he'd have plenty of time to eat before then—all he wanted to do after knocking out some Sharks was climb in bed with his girl. So they had agreed to go out for a light dinner at his brother-in-law's place at six, giving him plenty of time to let his stomach settle before the rumble. "Um, well…I suppose…we haven't really made any definite plans," she invented, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. "We're just goin' ta sort of improvise, I guess. But ya really oughta talk to yer dad about lettin' ya out tonight."

"Well…I'll check," Minnie said, a touch of nerves creeping into her voice. "Hold on." The line was silent for a moment (although Clarice was fairly certain she could hear some muffled voices in the background), and then Minnie returned. "No good," she said miserably. "Daddy said there's no way in heaven I'm going out tonight, even if I'm surrounded by girls, because I might end up on the coroner's table tomorrow morning."

Clarice sighed. "Well, it was worth a try. Are ya still comin' ta Doc's later?"

"Oh, yes; daddy doesn't mind me out while the sun is out, because he says criminals are all asleep during the day."

Clarice rolled her eyes; she liked Officer Goddard well enough, but he was freakishly overprotective of his little girl. "All right, well, I'll see ya then."

"Bye!" Minnie chirped.

Clarice hung up just as Bernice swung open the door with a small paper bag. "Well, well, looks like Sleepin' Beauty finally woke up."

Clarice made a face. "Well, it was hard not ta, with all the noise you were makin' gettin' ready this morning. I didn't know puttin' yer face on was such a noisy routine." She was tempted to add something about how putting her face on would require lots of work or something equally mean, but she was still waking up and decided against getting into an argument this early in the morning.

Bernice gave her a wink and opened up the bag. "I got ya somethin'; maybe it'll wake ya up." She tossed a small lilac-colored bottle at her twin, who caught it and examined it.

Clarice gasped as she saw that it was violet-scented bubblebath. "Ooh, my favorite! Thanks, Bernice!"

Bernice laughed. "Thought ya'd like it."

Clarice glanced at her, still holding the bottle of violet-scented bubblebath. "I take it ya went ta Doc's this morning?"

Bernice nodded. "Yes, an' ooh, I found out about the rumble!" she added with a squeal, jumping onto Clarice's bed and leaning forward, putting her hands on Clarice's knees. "Pauline told me that Tony swung it so that Ice an' Bernardo are havin' a one-on-one, but everyone _knows_ the boys're rumblin' anyhow."

Clarice had to resist a smirk. "I know."

Bernice's grin slipped. "Ya know?"

"Frankie called this morning, not long after ya left. He told me everything," Clarice informed her, pleased that for once she knew something her gossipy twin didn't.

Bernice leaned back, looking disappointed. "Oh." She paused. "I guess he's comin' over here after the rumble, then?"

Clarice nodded, smoothing out her skirt. "Yes."

Suddenly annoyed, Bernice pushed herself off the bed. "I s'pose it didn't occur to ya ta ask me if _I_ was all right with that," she snapped.

Clarice raised her eyebrows. "Well, I assumed ya'd already gotten a date; ya usually do."

"I ain't got one yet," Bernice said peevishly. "Not," she added quickly, "that I'll have trouble findin' one aftah the rumble."

Clarice rolled her eyes. "Ya never do," she muttered.

* * *

"Tony?"

Tony looked up from stacking crates and gave a small smile. "Hey, Anybodys. What's shakin'?"

Anybodys licked her lips. "You goin' to the rumble tonight?"

Tony winced; he had a feeling this was coming. "Probably not," he answered breezily.

Anybodys reached up to scratch her elbow. "Riff's countin' on ya."

"He send you over ta tell me that?" Tony asked, trying to keep the impatience out of his tone. The Jets had already sent Baby John over at three to try and talk Tony into coming, but he just wasn't sure he could do it; he loved Maria, he was certain of that, and he couldn't possibly betray her by supporting someone who wanted to harm her brother.

Anybodys shook her head. "Nah; he told me ta beat it."

"Maybe you should listen," Tony told her seriously.

Anybodys frowned. "You gonna gimme that crap too?"

A pierce of laughter that could only be Graziella's sounded from the front of the store, and the voices of Riff, Ice and Velma wafted through as well. Tony sighed, dreading the heckling from Riff he was bound to get. "Look, honey, Riff's here…why don'tcha take it up with him?"

Anybodys made a face as she turned to the cellar—so much for that. She was coming down the stairs when the door opened and Riff nearly knocked her over. She grabbed the railing to steady herself and he gave a small laugh. "Sorry, Anybodys; didn't see ya there. I need ta have a word with Tony…he around?"

"Yeah, he's back there," Anybodys said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

"Thanks, kid. An' hey, get yerself a soda," Riff added as he passed her, flipping a dime at her.

Anybodys caught it deftly. "Gee, thanks, Riff!" If he was trying to bribe her away, it was important, whatever he had to say to Tony, and Anybodys was not about to pass up this opportunity. She went into the cellar and closed the door firmly so that Riff would hear—then she pressed her ear to the door and strained her ears. Not that she had to; the door was pretty thin and Riff's voice carried.

"Tony, I gotta talk to ya about tonight. I'm countin' on you ta be there when Ice wins this thing fair an' square." There was a pause. "Ice's good in a fight, but you'n me know Bernardo—that joker is someone I _don't_ trust. He's got somethin' up his sleeve, I know it, an' we're gonna need your help."

"Sure about that?"

Anybodys frowned; what the hell was up with Tony lately?

"Look," Riff was saying. "Tony, yer my best friend an' the last guy I wanna see hurt. But these Sharks…they're _bad_, man. I don't like thinkin' about they're plannin' fer us tonight."

"I thought the Jets was invincible."

Riff quipped, "We are, buddy-boy, we are! Say, how's that sister-a Bernardo's? Think yer gonna get her in the sack? Boy, wouldn't that be givin' it ta Bernardo!" he laughed.

"Why don'tcha shut the hell up an' beat it, huh?"

Tony hadn't spoken with that voice since…well, since he used to really be a Jet. And frankly, it made Anybodys a little nervous. Hearing the fall of footsteps, she bolted up the stairs and tumbled out of the door leading to the store. Ice, Velma, Graziella, Clarice, Bernice, Pauline, Minnie and Baby John were sprawled out at the tables and the counter, and they looked up in surprise when she burst through. There was a snort from Bernice followed by some titters from the girls. Anybodys scowled at them and shoved her way through the teenagers and out the door.

"_What_ was all _that_ about?" Clarice asked the minute the door had banged shut behind Anybodys.

"She looked upset," Minnie noted uneasily.

"Probably saw her reflection is all," Graziella said in an unconcerned tone. Any further thoughts of Anybodys were driven from their minds as Riff and Tony stormed up the stairs and into the store, each looking noticeably peeved with the other.

"Where are you going?" Minnie asked Tony as he made for the front door.

He glanced at her and shook his head. "Nowhere; just…running an errand." And he bolted.

Riff grabbed a chair and swung it out to face Ice, straddling it as they began to speak rapidly of tactics. Baby John, who had been immersed in his Captain America comic (when he wasn't stealing covert glances at Minnie), glanced up at them, hoping to pick up some tips. Graziella, annoyed that her boyfriend wasn't paying her any attention, turned back to the girls. "So, where's Big Deal takin' ya again, Clarice?"

Clarice grinned as she swirled her straw in her cream-soda. "Bierhoff's. It's a German restaurant; his sister's husband owns it, so we get food fa free."

"Well, ain't that chivalrous-a him," Bernice said, rolling her eyes.

Clarice shot her a scowl. "Jealousy is very unbecomin' on ya, sis."

Velma and Graziella exchanged eye-rolls; the twins could go on like this for hours. Bernice snorted. "It's more becomin' on me than that top is on you. I'm curious; where're ya gonna hide Big Deal's surprise tonight in that tight little thing? Since we can already see everythin', that is."

Clarice, who was indeed wearing a form-fitting black top, flushed.

"Don't listen ta her, Clarice," Velma said, shooting Bernice a cool glare. "It looks good on ya."

"Oh, yes; it shows off how skinny you are," Minnie agreed.

"That tiny little waist," Graziella said miserably.

"But yer just as tiny!" Clarice declared.

Graziella, who had always had issues with her weight, looked considerably cheered by this. The bell over the door tinkled as Big Deal pushed through it. Clarice stood up, beaming. "Hi baby!" she greeted, slipping her arms around Big Deal's waist and tilting her head to receive a kiss from him.

"You ready?" Big Deal asked, eyeing her approvingly.

"Yes," Clarice answered, grabbing her purse and slipping the strap over her shoulder as she took Big Deal's hand and followed him out the door.

"You kids have fun, now," Pauline called, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Big Deal assured her, winking at all the girls as he closed the door behind them.

"Lucky girl," Pauline remarked. "Gettin' a catch like that an' all."

Velma raised her eyebrows. "I thought ya didn't believe in tyin' yourself down ta one guy."

Pauline turned to give her a look as if she were a feline about to rob a fishbowl. "I don't. But even _you_ gotta admit he's pretty damn nice ta look at."

"Well, yeah," Velma admitted, somewhat flustered at making this confession with her boyfriend only a few feet away.

Pauline smirked. "An' he's pretty good in bed, too…"

"Pauline!" Graziella hissed. "Honestly!"

Minnie sighed and glanced out the window. "I'd better be getting home; daddy wants me home in time for dinner, and then I have to stay there."

"I could walk ya home," Baby John offered at once.

Minnie smiled shyly. "That would be very sweet of you, Johnny."

The other girls exchanged grins as Minnie picked up her purse and Baby John set down his comic. Minnie turned to wave at them. "Bye, everyone!"

"Bye, Minnie!"

"Good luck at the rumble tonight, boys!" Minnie added.

Riff and Ice paused to look up; the corner of Riff's mouth lifted as he raised a hand and jerked it in farewell. "Thanks, Minnie."

Baby John, ever the perfect little gentleman, held the door for Minnie and was rewarded with a smile. Looking like a loyal puppy, he trotted out after her, the door closing with a merry tinkle.

"He's got it _bad_," Graziella laughed.

"Minnie don't look too aloof herself," Bernice commented, grinning. She stood up and stretched. "Well, as _fun_ as it's been, girls, I'd better head on home; Clarice has the bath reserved fer aftah her date with Big Deal, an' I'd better scoot if I want it before then."

"I'll go with ya," Pauline said, also rising. "I don't gotta share my bath, but I like ta take 'em nice an' long." She swung her purse onto her shoulder. "See ya."

"Bye," Velma and Graziella chorused as the two resident Jet Girl Sluts exited Doc's.

As they turned the corner, they saw Action dragging on a cigarette, massaging his knuckles. The corner of his mouth turned up. "Hey Pauline…Bernice."

"Hiya, Action," Pauline fairly purred.

Bernice glanced between them. "I better get home," she said, giving Pauline a Very Significant Look as she sauntered away.

Pauline rested her back against the wall as Action dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it in with his toe, shifting towards her. Pauline licked her lips, staring at Action seductively. She leaned forward. "I'm gonna blow yer mind tonight, baby," she breathed, then smiled. "An' if yer lucky, maybe somethin' else, too."

Action smirked at her, planting both his hands on the wall on either side of her and effectively decreasing the space between them. "You ain't promisin' some other guy the same thing, are ya?"

Pauline's heart began to race. She loved when Action acted like this, his threats subtle but valid. She toyed with his collar, shaking her head. "'Course not. Why else didja think I asked ya ta come ta my place?" Pauline gyrated her hips against Action's, slow enough and hard enough to make him grunt. "I'll be waitin'," she whispered huskily in his ear, catching her teeth on his earlobe.

Action leaned back and looked at her with the sparks preceding a fire in his black eyes. "Yer a tramp, ya know that?" he said, a corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-approving smirk.

Pauline smirked back at him. "Ya wouldn't have it any other way."

Action's hand applied pressure at the back of her neck, ordering her to move in for a kiss. She complied all too happily, letting her lips suck his and her tongue move in ways that, were he a lesser man, would've driven him nuts. This was what she lived for; the heat and the hardness of these men and the all-consuming fire fighting to be released before it swallowed them whole. He pulled back after a few minutes, that fire of excitement already glowing. He was ready for the rumble, ready to kill if he could get away with it, and it was so deliciously dangerous, knowing that he could break her.


	8. We're Gonna Rock It Tonight

A/N: Hello again, m'dears! I was rather surprised when I realized that today was Thursday and time for an update; of course, I have been dead on my feet all day, so perhaps that explains it. Anyway, I am happy to report that the Evil Project of Doom is nearly complete, which means I will get to have a life again after March 23rd. YAY!

Also, I would like to add that our school is doing a 1950s version of Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_, and I immediately start giggling whenever someone says "daddy-o" or "rumble." Also, I play Maria, and I have been informed that I unconsciously start dancing a little bit whenever someone mentions the name. And that is your piece of useless trivia for the day.

I want to give huge thanks to **Vee, cookies,** and **Meg** for the reviews; you guys have no idea how happy they make me! Well, I mean, you probably do, but…you know what I mean.

* * *

Graziella and Velma raised their eyebrows as Gee-Tar came into Doc's. He blinked, confused. "Oh. Hi."

Graziella sighed. "Clarice ain't here, Gee-Tar; she's off with her _boyfriend_. Big Deal."

Gee-Tar visibly drooped. "Oh."

"Bye," Graziella said bluntly.

Gee-Tar, a little unsure of how to handle this, stood there for a moment and blinked. When Graziella told him to take a picture, it would last longer, he blushed and mumbled something incoherent before ducking out of the store.

"Pathetic," Graziella scoffed. "Anyway. Ya excited about tonight?"

"I guess," Velma answered carefully, glancing at Ice.

Graziella followed her friend's eyes and gave a small smile. "Don't worry about him; he'll cut Bernardo down in a second," she said, giving a small snap on the last word.

Velma stirred her straw in her drink. "Yeah…I know. Still…" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Graziella give a small eye-roll. Velma shot a sideways glance at Graziella. "Ya think I'm bein' paranoid, don'tcha?"

Graziella started, her mouth parting slightly in surprise, but she quickly slipped it into a smile and shook her head. "What? A-course not! Ya have every right ta be worryin' about him!"

"But you never worry this much," Velma pointed out softly.

Graziella sighed. "No. It's 'cause I'm used to it. Riff's almost died more times'n I can count…ya just kinda get used to it."

Velma nodded, but as she glanced once more at Ice, she wondered how anyone could ever get used to the feeling that the person they loved, depended upon like a human depended upon oxygen, might die.

* * *

Minnie and Baby John walked side by side, their hands brushing every few moments. These slight touches sent an electric shock through Minnie every time—this was a new sensation for her, and it only ever happened around Baby John. She didn't dare bring it up, though; it was too much of a wild, excited feeling to possibly be proper.

"So…yer dad won't let ya come hang out with us after the rumble?" Baby John asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Minnie sighed, shaking her head. "He won't even let me out of the house. Johnny, he says he's going to be looking for the rumble; what if he finds you?" Her hand came to touch his arm.

Baby John was privately terrified of Officer Goddard, but there was no reason to let Minnie know that. He forced a smile. "Don't worry; Riff said it's a good spot, one that the cops probably won't think of. An' it won't be long; we'll be in an' outta there before they finish lookin' for us." He paused. "Gee, I sure wish you were gonna be there, Minnie."

Minnie blushed as she did whenever Baby John said something like this. "Well…I do too," she said helplessly.

"All the Jets are takin' their girls out afterwards…I might just catch a movie with A-Rab." Baby John suddenly frowned. "Unless he has a date…"

Minnie repressed the longing sigh she felt inside of her. She wanted to go to a movie or take a walk with Baby John after the rumble _so badly_. She didn't know just what was so appealing about rumbles in particular, but all the girls were excited about it, speaking in hushed but giddy voices about what they were wearing and where their boys were taking them afterwards; it must be a pretty big deal, and she dearly wanted to be a part of it. She noticed, disappointed, that they had come to her building. "Well, this is me."

Baby John halted as she did, his face falling. "Well…I guess I'll see ya tomorrow, then."

Minnie nodded, smiling at him. "Okay. I'll see you then." She turned to go inside before pausing. After a moment of struggling with herself, she called out, "Johnny?"

Baby John, who had only moved a few feet, stopped and turned to face her. "Yeah?"

Minnie hesitated. "Be…be careful tonight…okay? I, I don't want you to get hurt."

Baby John fairly grinned. "Don't worry about me, Minnie…I'll be fine."

Minnie beamed back at him and slipped inside her building, her heart next to bursting as she thought of the boy whose smile sent her soaring.

* * *

Anybodys crept as quietly as she could from the kitchen to her bedroom, wincing as the bites of apple she was taking cracked across the silence. There wasn't much in the house, but it wasn't like she needed a big dinner, anyway. The door across from her bedroom door opened and she froze. "Did I wake ya up?"

The older girl shook her head and yawned, scratching her tousled hair. "Nah; I planned on wakin' up early anyway. Thought I'd catch ya before I went."

"Oh." Anybodys paused, turning the apple over in her hand.

"So, where's this rumble tonight?" Sissy asked, yawning again.

Anybodys didn't hesitate to tell her sister; she knew her sister wasn't going to flip and call the cops. "Under the highway. It's a one-on-one; Ice an' Bernardo. But it's probably gonna turn inta an all-out, an' Riff might need me."

The older girl sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Y'know, sometimes I worry about ya, Annie."

Anybodys shrugged off the hand, uncomfortable with being touched, even by the only person she had ever really trusted. "I'll be fine, Sissy. Why don'tcha go on back ta bed?"

Sissy smiled wryly. "Honey, this is the city that never sleeps, an' I can't either, if we wanna have a roof over our heads an' bread on the table. Tell ya what; if ya still up by the time I get back, I wanna hear all about it. Otherwise, ya can wake me up tomorrah an' tell me all about it."

Anybodys nodded, taking another bite out of the apple. She knew from Tony that it was best to eat a light meal a few hours before the rumble and to eat it slowly so it wouldn't leave an upset stomach, and while a part of her kind of doubted she would get to fight, another part of her was still optimistic that tonight could be her chance to prove herself to the Jets. _Tonight_. There was so much promise in that word. "Well…I'd better get goin'." In truth, there was still plenty of time before the rumble, but Anybodys didn't want to be around when Sissy started caking on the makeup and put on a skimpy dress that had a frayed back from being pushed against walls so many times.

Sissy sighed and forced a smile. "Okay. Good luck, Annie."

Anybodys nodded and went into her room, climbing out of the window and down the fire escape. "It's _Anybodys_," she murmured, turning and fleeing from the redlight district as it began to stir.

* * *

Clarice leaned into Big Deal as his arm went down her back, his hand resting on her hip. She wrapped both her arms around his waist, resting her head on as much of his shoulder as she could reach. "Dinner was great, baby."

Big Deal grinned down at her. "I'm glad; I asked Max ta make it special."

"Oh, so _that's_ what you two were babblin' about," Clarice said, smiling. "That was sweet."

Big Deal shrugged. "Well, ya make stuff fa me all the time…figured I oughta return the favor once in awhile."

"But I like doin' it," Clarice insisted. "An' I _shoulda_ made dinner tonight, what with you rumblin' an' all…"

"Nah, that food lays too heavy on my stomach," Big Deal said, waving a careless hand. "A burger an' _roesti_ works just fine. 'Sides, yer doin' enough tonight."

Clarice caught the implication in his tone and beamed. "That's not exactly goin' to a lotta _trouble_, baby…"

Big Deal laughed. "I guess not." He glanced down at her. "Bernice still clearin' out fer us?"

Clarice shifted her left arm, moving her hand to hook her finger in one of his front belt loops. "She wasn't very happy about it, but she was gonna clear out anyway; she's gonna wait at Doc's fa the boys ta come back."

"An' yer still gonna wait at yer place?" Big Deal asked, lowering his head to smell her hair.

"Yes," Clarice said, sucking in her breath as Big Deal began to nuzzle her hair. "_Dio Mio_," she murmured, turning and tilting her head to receive his kiss. Her arms went around his neck as his hands pulled her hips to his, their kiss going deeper than it normally did in public. They remained like this until a woman walking by made a noise of disapproval. They pulled apart, flushed and gasping. "Careful; I might just pull ya inta an alley right now," Clarice breathed.

"Don't gimme ideas," Big Deal groaned. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "C'mon; let's get ya home 'fore it gets dark."

Clarice took his proffered hand, intertwining their fingers as they moved onward. After the rumble seemed like an eternity away…

* * *

At seven, the girls decided that they needed to get home to eat and get ready for after the rumble. Velma pulled Ice outside, she jittery and he tense, and Graziella wound her arms around Riff's neck, perching on his lap. "Y'know, Riff, ya've been ignorin' me all day," she pouted, maneuvering herself so that her ample cleavage was in his line of vision.

"I'm sorry, Graz," he said, almost sounding sincere. She said _almost_ because Riff, she had discovered, was very rarely sincere when he said he was sorry. Not that she could blame him; what's there to be sorry for in this world, really? And sure enough, that spark started dancing in his eyes and a corner of his mouth turned up. "Can I make it up to ya?"

"Please," Graziella invited, giggling as he proceeded to apologize in a physical (and rather preferable) way. "You cut them Sharks good tonight, ya dig?" she gasped in between kisses.

Riff grinned against her lips. "Ice's fightin' Bernardo, not me."

"We both know what's gonna happen, Riff," Graziella sighed, pulling back ever so slightly to give him a do-you-really-think-I'm-that-stupid-look.

Riff leaned back and surveyed his girl with serious eyes. At her defiant face, he smiled wryly. "I shoulda known you was gonna figure it out. Nah, I know how them Sharks play, an' it ain't fair. Still, nuthin' we can't handle."

"Well, when ya done handlin' the Sharks, I got somethin' else ya can handle," Graziella said in a husky voice, smirking as her meaning hit Riff.

"Can't wait for it," Riff said, giving her rear a pinch and eliciting a surprised but delighted squeal. "C'mere."

Graziella obligingly leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and tilting her head to allow better access. Velma could worry all she wanted to—Graziella felt as pleasantly dizzy as if she had just drunken a glass of pink champagne. Riff did that to her, made her feel lighter than air and as if she was queen of the world. She could've stayed like that forever, had a very loud clearing of the throat—courtesy of Doc—not interrupted the two. At a jerk of the head from Riff, Graziella reluctantly slid off his lap. "See ya later, daddy-o."

Ice entered before Riff could respond, and she knew that Riff wasn't about to say anything to her with his buddy around—Jets just didn't get emotional, _especially_ around their pals. So she smiled and winked at him and left Doc's, pulling a pale Velma along with her and trying to distract her with talk. None of it was working, however—Velma was too upset by the rumble.

"Wouldja stop _worryin'_?" Graziella said quite suddenly about halfway through the walk home.

Velma started and looked at her. "What?"

Graziella rolled her eyes. "Oh, please; as if ya don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout. He'll be _fine_, Velma. Riff always is, an' he's always liked playin' with fire a little too much."

Velma heaved a sigh. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just…I'm kinda new at this."

Graziella put a sympathetic hand on her arm. "I know; I used ta worry about Riff a lot. But then I finally realized that he was always gonna be okay, even when he was fightin' against belts an' chains an' knives."

Velma looked at her sharply. "Ya don't think…?"

"I dunno; the Jets've never had a fair fight before," Graziella said quickly. "It might be different. I know our guys are bringin' 'em; that's what Riff said. An' besides, ya know the Sharks probably piss 'emselves whenever they see Ice."

Velma smiled a little at her friend's choice of words; she knew that the Jets were certainly terrified of Ice, and he was their buddy. Still, that didn't make the knots in her stomach any looser.

"Ya just need a nice hot bubblebath," Graziella continued, seeing her friend's taut face. "It'll make ya feel a helluva lot better, trust me."

Velma nodded. Graziella was probably right; the bath wouldn't take away all the nerves, but it would certainly make this whole thing a lot easier on her. She knew that she probably was just being silly, and she'd probably feel stupid about the way she was acting later on. Hell, maybe someday she'd even be like Graziella, almost indifferent to what her man was doing, just as long as he came back to her. Part of her doubted that would ever happen. Another part was scared it would.

"I'll see ya later, Vel," Graziella said as they came to Velma's apartment building. "An' really, don't get so upset. Ice'll be fine."

Velma forced a smile, but it fell almost the moment Graziella turned to saunter back to her building, orange curls bathed in the blood-red glow of the setting sun.

* * *

Minnie stood at her window, watching as her father ducked into his patrol car and drove off. The moment his car pulled away, she locked her door and grabbed some of her pillows and stuffed animals, carefully placing them under her covers until they resembled a body. She opened her window and held her breath as she slowly, carefully climbed out and onto the fire escape. Minnie descended the ladder-like stairs with the greatest caution, hoping she didn't slip and fall. It felt like hours, but she finally dropped to the ground, flushed with her success. She took off at once, not wanting to waste a moment of the precious sunlight; she hated walking alone at night.

Minnie had turned the matter over and over in her mind during dinner (which was filled with her father ranting about hoodlums) and had finally decided that she would not stay at home, waiting in torture to hear some news of the rumble. Her father had forbidden her to leave—and so her only choice was to sneak out. She had a feeling her mother knew what she was up to—Mrs. Goddard was no idiot. She had raised two children, one of whom had been a Jet, and she must have been well aware of the number of times he had snuck out. Minnie vaguely wondered if Ricky had ever felt the same rush of adrenaline she felt now, knowing that the rules were being broken and the world was waiting.

Without quite knowing why, Minnie put on a burst of speed, her flats tapping the sidewalk as she quickened her pace. Her skirt billowed as she ran, the frilly russet crinolines swirling underneath her navy-blue skirt. She slowed to a stop as she reached Doc's, her feet falling heavier on the ground. She scurried up the stairs, pulling open the door and practically bursting into the drugstore.

There were two people in the store; Doc, wiping down the counter as usual, and Bernice, poring over a teen magazine. Both looked rather surprised at her appearance, but she gave them a wide smile. "Hi Doc, Bernice!"

"Evenin', Minnie," Doc said in a bemused sort of voice.

Bernice raised an eyebrow as Minnie took a seat on the stool beside her. "I thought yer dad wasn't gonna let ya out tonight."

Minnie flushed. "Well, um, he didn't."

Bernice stared at her for a long moment, uncomprehending, before realization dawned and she gasped. "You snuck _out_?!"

"Yes," Minnie whispered, as if afraid her father was waiting for her outside.

Bernice looked gleefully surprised. "Minnie, I'm _impressed_! I never knew ya had it in ya!"

"After stickin' around all those hoodlums? How could she not?" Doc sighed, but even his eyes were wider than normal with the revelation that Marianne Louise Goddard had actually disobeyed her father's orders.

"Oh, they're not _hoodlums_, Doc," Minnie protested, unconsciously proving that she was not _completely_ corrupted.

"Nah, a bunch-a juvenile delinquents," Doc amended, snorting.

"Daddy's always saying that," Minnie sighed. "He thinks they're all going to jail someday."

"They _are_ all goin' ta jail someday," Doc said. Then he added, "Except Baby John. Only way that kid would end up in jail is if he sleepwalked in there."

"Whatever," Bernice said, waving an impatient hand. "Anyway. So, why'd ya sneak out?"

Minnie hesitated as she swirled a finger over the countertop. "Well…all the other girls were going to meet up with the boys after the rumble, and Baby John said he wished I would be there, so…I came." She flushed as she said this, mortified that her feelings for Baby John were being displayed so publicly—it was as if her mouth had a mind of its own.

Bernice smirked. "Oh, _did_ he, now? Well, that's _very_ interesting." Minnie could have Baby John—he was a little too young for Bernice's taste, and besides, the two kids were so obviously in love with each other. "So, is he takin' ya out afterwards?"

Doc made a small scoffing noise in his throat as he wiped a glass—though Minnie remained clueless, Bernice could tell that he seriously doubted Baby John had the romantic capacity (or at least the nerve) to take out any girl. Actually, she kind of agreed with him.

Minnie blushed again. "Well…I don't really know."

"Ya don't?" Bernice asked, raising her eyebrows. "How d'ya not know? I mean, it's kinda cut an' dry…"

"Well, I mean, I didn't decide to sneak out until after he walked me home. He _said_ he wished I would be there after the rumble, so I _think_ he'll take me out, but I'm not really sure," Minnie admitted, frantically wondering if there was a flaw in her plan.

Bernice grinned. "I'm sure he will. Boys tend ta be…_excited_…after rumbles."

"Bernice," Doc said in a warning tone. He didn't much care what the other kids said to each other, but there were certain precautions that had to be taken with Minnie.

Bernice rolled her eyes at him but did not say anything further about the excitement boys experienced post-rumble. "Now, tell me somethin'; you know where the rumble is, right?"

"Under the highway, isn't it?" Minnie asked with a trace of uncertainty.

"Well, yeah…but ya didn't tell ya dad?" Bernice asked, intrigued. "I mean, didn't he ask ya if ya knew?"

Minnie blushed and ducked her head. "Well, I mean…I wasn't _lying_ or anything…I just didn't tell him that I knew where it is. He didn't ask me; I don't think he thinks I know where it is."

Bernice looked impressed. "Wow. You're a lot gutsier than I ever woulda thought."

Minnie blushed. "No, I'm not…I just…I just couldn't tattle on the Jets. Even to daddy."

Bernice glanced at the clock and grinned. "Nine o'clock; time for the rumble."


	9. They Began It

A/N: I suppose it's fairly obvious by now that this chapter is, in fact, the rumble. I had to replay this scene over and over again to write it accurately, and let me tell you, that was _not_ a fun experience. This chapter is entirely Anybodys-centric, although most of it focuses on the action of the rumble seen through her eyes. I've attempted to write out the rumble to the best of my ability; whether or not I accomplished this is left up for debate. Personally, I find written-out fight sequences tiresome, but this was rather unavoidable, so if you are like me, I apologize.

Many, many, many thanks to my readers/reviewers; they truly make my day!

* * *

The summer sun was loath to leave the sky tonight. Nine o'clock came, the sun still lingering and bathing the city in a ruddy, almost eerie glow and creating all manner of shadows. One particular shadow followed the Jets, unseen by any of them. Tense and jumpy as they were, looking for Sharks at every turn, they did not see the shadow dogging their footsteps.

Anybodys knew that she was playing with fire, but that in itself made her mission all the more appealing. She'd seen the belts and chains and ice picks and knives the boys were gripping, and she'd also seen how ready to attack they all were. If they caught her, well…she was really hoping she didn't have to imagine the rest of that sentence. Riff was generally a good-tempered, patient guy, but at the moment, Anybodys was positive she did _not_ want him to find her. God, Action would take that belt to her without a moment's hesitation. Even A-Rab—damn, _A-Rab_—sent a shiver down her spine with that chain he was winding around his hands.

She branched off from the Jets as they reached the highway, grateful for the cover of darkness as she scuttled to the hiding place she had already picked out. It was perfect, so perfect that the Sharks never even noticed her. The view wasn't spectacular; she couldn't see the Jets very well, but she would still be able to get a mostly clear view of the action.

The Jets sent cool, challenging glares towards the Sharks as Ice and Bernardo eased off their jackets, Ice tossing his to Riff and Bernardo tossing his to a particularly effeminate Shark.

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Ready."

"Ready." Riff tossed Ice's jacket to Big Deal and came to stand between the two gangs. "Now, uh, move in an' shake hands."

"For what?" Bernardo sneered, causing Ice to pause as he began to extend his hand.

The Jets glanced at each other, smirking. Anybodys couldn't resist a smirk of her own; stupid Spic. Riff looked particularly amused. "Well, that's the way it's _done_, buddy-boy."

"Ah; more _gracious_ living," Bernardo said as if amused; this made no sense to Anybodys. His tone quickly turned angry. "Look, every one of you hates every one of us and we hate you _right_ back! Let's get at it!"

"Sure," Riff agreed, moving back to give Ice words of encouragement with the rest of the Jets as the Sharks did the same with Bernardo. The two fighters circled each other, their glares composed of jagged ice and burning coal. Ice moved first, dropping into fighting stance. Bernardo followed a moment later, his movements more exaggerated. Anybodys bit her lip, her heart speeding up as the fight began. The Jets and Sharks called to Ice and Bernardo, shouting out pieces of advice or encouragement.

"Hold it!"

Anybodys peered to the chain-link fence to the side; Tony had arrived. Everyone paused as he climbed over. As he dropped to the ground, Riff ran to meet him. "Tony! Get with the gang, it's all okay," he said excitedly.

Anybodys couldn't help sharing Riff's enthusiasm; everything would be okay now that Tony was here. She had known the Jets would come out on top all along, but Tony's appearance made her even more certain of their imminent victory.

Ice and Bernardo settled in to pick up where they'd left off, but Tony gave Ice a small push back. "No!"

"Tony, what're ya doin'?" Riff asked incredulously, echoing Anybodys's thoughts. Unless, of course, Tony wanted to take on Bernardo himself, in which case it made perfect sense…

"Maybe he has found the _guts_ to fight his _own_ battles!" Bernardo spat. Yes, that had to be it…

Still out of breath from the run over here, Tony panted, "It don't take guts…if ya got a battle. We ain't got one—now, none of us!" He paused and then held out his hand as if he wanted Bernardo to shake it. "Okay, Nardo?"

"Tony!" Riff said sharply, confused and trying to smooth it over. Anybodys frowned; she didn't know what the hell Tony was playing at, but it was only making Bernardo madder.

In fact, Bernardo only swung out and knocked Tony to the ground. Anybodys winced; this was not the Tony she knew. The Tony _she_ knew would've knocked Bernardo flat on his back and broken a few ribs in the process. Thankfully, Riff leapt in front of Bernardo before the fight could escalate into something out of control. "Hold it! Now let's just cool it! The deal was a fair fight between _you_ and _Ice_." He turned back to Tony, clapping him on the shoulder. "C'mon; get with the gang."

Bernardo, however, was not so easily distracted. "Mother hen protecting the little one?" he sneered. "_I'll_ give you a battle, _gallito_!"

"You've _got_ one!" Ice snarled, moving forward. He didn't get very far; Tony came and pushed him away again.

"I'll take pretty-boy as a warm-up," Bernardo decided. Anybodys couldn't see him because his back was to her, but she could practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice. "Afraid, pretty-boy?" he continued in a softer but still mocking tone. "Afraid, gutless? Afraid, chicken?" He punctuated this last taunt with a flick to Tony's arm.

"Cut it!" Riff warned, starting forward.

"No!" Tony grabbed his best friend's shoulders, lightly pushing the shorter boy away. He shook his head. "I don't wanna, Bernardo."

"Oh, I'm sure!" Bernardo sneered, slapping Tony's arms.

"Now listen to me!" Tony pleaded. Anybodys stared at him in disbelief—what the hell was going on here? She knew Tony had been kissing off the Jets lately, but downright refusing a fight when it was so clearly being picked?

"Are you chicken?" Bernardo continued, lashing out again.

"There's no need to fight!" Tony said.

"The hell there ain't!" Riff snapped, fixing a cutting glare on Bernardo.

"You've got it wrong!" Tony persisted, backing away as Bernardo continued to throw his fists at him and taunt him, calling him a chicken. It was sickening, and it made Anybodys half angry and half nervous. "Why can't you understand?!" Tony shouted at the Jets.

"Understand, chicken!" Bernardo shouted, his leg flying up as he kicked Tony's back.

Tony immediately swung into fighting stance, fists raised and weight shifting from foot to foot. Bernardo met the challenge at once, looking absolutely delighted with himself. The Jets cheered for Tony as the Sharks continued their stream of taunts. Anybodys held her breath, waiting for Tony to throw the first punch…but it never came. He was taking far too long, and Bernardo's expression contorted into one of disgust. "Hey! He _is_ chicken!" he shouted, coming around to kick Tony again.

The taunts started up anew as the Sharks began to pinch and slap Tony's cheeks, making kissy faces and cackling as he backed up. One Shark jumped on his friend's back, flapping his arms like a chicken. It infuriated Anybodys—not only the Sharks, but Tony's refusal to fight. _Why_ wouldn't he fight? All the fights he had started up before, and now he was shrinking back like a whipped dog when people were deliberately _trying_ to get him to fight?

"Don't! Stop! We got nothin' to fight about!" Tony protested, but his words were drowned out in the clucking and jeering. As if hoping to help, Ice gave Tony's shoulders a shove. "Don't push me!" Tony bellowed, showing more fury towards his own than to his enemy.

The last real insult Anybodys heard was Bernardo shouting, "Come on, you yellow-bellied Polack!" A moment later he was lying flat on his back, having been put there by a furious-looking Riff. Bernardo bounced back to his feet as if he were a rubber ball, wiping his nose and looking quickly for blood. He turned to Riff with, from what Anybodys could see of his shadowed face, a stunned expression; Riff, too, had wide eyes. There was a pause, and then Riff shook off his jacket, tossing it to a bewildered Joyboy. The two leaders slowly reached into their pockets and suddenly yanked out their knives, the metal glinting. Anybodys's heart was fairly racing now; chains and belts were one thing, but knives meant intent to kill. The Jets and Sharks took a collective step back.

"No! Riff, what are you doing?!" Tony shouted, running forward and trying to pull Riff away.

Riff, however, flicked Tony off with the agility of a cat. "Get outta here, Tony!"

"Riff, don't!" Tony yelled, lunging at Riff again.

Ice and Tiger bounded forward, prising Tony off of Riff and pulling him back with great effort. Glancing at Tony but still keeping his eyes on Bernardo, Riff shouted, "Hold him!"

"Ice, let me _go_!" Tony pleaded, but his protests were drowned out as Riff and Bernardo dropped into fighting stance, moving closer and circling each other. Anybodys almost forgot to breathe, so intent was she on watching the proceedings. They feinted with their knives and Bernardo backed Riff up to the cement wall. Riff kicked, forcing Bernardo back, and they moved back to the center, ignoring Tony's shouts. The two lunged and Riff's knife went flying behind him. Anybodys hissed in fear, but it went unheard as the shouting rose.

Bernardo ran towards Riff, who was now on the ground, but he maneuvered his limbs so that he flicked Bernardo over him, leaping back to his feet as Bernardo scrabbled to grab his knife. He kicked Riff, who had moved to grab it, and Riff rolled to his feet, gripping the chain-link fence behind his back as he faced Bernardo. The Jets and Sharks began to move towards one another—having one man armed and one unarmed was not fair.

"Keep outta this!"

Everyone froze at Riff's command, even the Sharks. The silence was only broken by Tony's cry of, "Somebody stop him! Let me _go_! Ice! Tiger!"

Slowly, the two gangs backed up, ignoring Tony completely. Even Anybodys seemed not to have heard him; her heart skipped a beat as she watched and waited for Riff's next move. Bernardo moved slowly to face Riff again, tossing the knife from hand to hand in such a tantalizing manner it almost hurt to watch him. Riff wiped his palms on his jeans—no doubt he was sweating like a pig. Bernardo lunged forward, but Riff caught him just in time, grunting as he threw Bernardo's hand away from him and rolled.

"Riff! Riff!" Action yelled, holding out his knife. Riff, after rolling again, leapt to his feet and grabbed it, brandishing it at Bernardo with a triumphant expression. Anybodys felt as if she could breathe again—Riff would be all right now. Bernardo swiped and Riff moved around him, the knife slashing across Bernardo's back. A rip in his shirt appeared, followed by a neat slash of dark red. Riff had cut Bernardo—a few more and victory was theirs…

Riff kicked and Bernardo fell, rolling towards the Sharks. His balance was off, and as he rose, he stumbled. Riff kicked his legs out from underneath him and dropped, holding Bernardo down with a hand on his back as he raised the knife, prepared to bring it down.

"Riff, _don't_!"

Somehow, Tony had gotten loose and was now dragging Riff off of Bernardo and a good couple yards away. As Riff disengaged himself from Tony, Bernardo climbed to his feet, a hand touching the cut on his back. Riff ran forward, and Anybodys saw what was going to happen before it even occurred—Riff ran right into Bernardo's knife, the jagged piece of metal impaling him just below his heart. Anybodys opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The world seemed to literally halt—no one moved or made a sound, and it was as if her own heart had stilled.

Slowly, painfully, Riff turned, one hand gripping Bernardo's arm and one holding out Action's knife to Tony. Tony took it, confused, and Riff dropped to the ground at once. Tony knelt beside Riff, everyone else remaining stationary. Anybodys noticed with a sickening start that Bernardo's knife was red. And suddenly, the world began to turn again, faster and more violently than ever before, and her heart began to pound against her ribcage. Someone shouted to Bernardo in Spanish, and without any warning whatsoever, Tony flew to his feet and rammed Action's knife into Bernardo, causing the tall and handsome boy to fall with an anguished cry.

"Get them!" someone shouted. Sharks and Jets leapt upon one another, fists flying and teeth gnashing. Something clicked in Anybodys's mind and, without quite knowing what she was doing, she had climbed down from her hiding place and was dashing to the small tunnel that led into the area where the rumble was now in full swing. A-Rab and Baby John slammed a smaller Shark into the chain-link fence and she took an involuntary jump back, terrified at the angry, murderous look in A-Rab's eyes. He didn't see her, which was just as well; she didn't want him to take any notice of her whatsoever in his present condition. Anybodys crawled through the tunnel, steeling herself for whatever she might find. Riff had pushed her away hundreds of times, but she had to fight now, she just _had_ to.

A siren sounded nearby, and Anybodys froze as she prepared to climb out. The teenage boys also came to a halt, none of them moving as the siren grew louder and louder. A few heads popped up here and there, and after another pause, they began to move. Grunts sounded as those in the disadvantageous positions were punched and kicked, and the Jets and Sharks began to scatter. Most of the Sharks crawled up the chain-link fences while most of the Jets jumped up to the cement wall and disappeared over it. Several Sharks leapt into the tunnel and Anybodys scrambled to the corner, making herself as small as possible. Many of the Sharks knocked into her, but it was as if she was nonexistent—none of them said anything to her or even looked at her.

Within seconds, the gangsters were gone and the only sound that could be heard was the wailing siren that was growing louder and louder. Anybodys paused and waited; upon deciding that she could get away, she prepared to climb out, heart pounding and breath shallow.

"MARIA!"

Anybodys froze—that was Tony's voice. He was still there…oh, God, the cops! She had to get him out of there. Anybodys climbed out, pausing by the chain-link fence. The siren was still going and the car was just about to pull up—she had time. She ran to Tony, grabbing him and shaking his shoulders as she watched the squad car jerk to a stop. "Tony, come on! Come on, Tony! We gotta get outta here, come on!" She pulled him away from Bernardo and ran to grab Action's knife. She touched Tony's chest as she spun past him. "Come on, Tony! Come on!" The searchlight fell on her and she knew she had to move if she didn't want to get caught. "Get outta here!" she shouted, diving into the tunnel.

When she ducked out on the other end, Tony was attempting to climb the other chain-link fence, but the light had caught him. He ran to the cement wall, weaving almost drunkenly out of the light, but it found him and remained fixed on him.

"Come on!" Anybodys urged, motioning to him anxiously. He ran forward, vaulting onto the chain-link fence and swinging over it with the agility of a spider. "Come on, Tony!" Anybodys urged again, running. Tony caught up to her after a few moments and she grabbed his hand, slick with sweat. He wasn't himself, and Anybodys knew she had to take care of him—who knew what would happen to him without someone looking out for him? It was what Jets did, how they worked—never alone, never disconnected.

The two ran, ducking in and out of shadows and repressing shouts whenever something startled them. Anybodys decided to get him to Doc's…_someone_ had to be there, surely, and they could all form up and decide their next plan of action then. Her head spun with a thousand and one thoughts, none of which were making her feel any better. She forced the image of Riff's wide, shocked face from her mind; she couldn't think about that now, she just couldn't.

As they came near Shark territory, Tony suddenly stumbled to a halt and turned away, starting to leave her. "Maria…"

"Tony, where are ya goin'?" Anybodys asked, tugging at his hand almost hysterically.

Tony shook her off. "Maria…I gotta…I gotta go…look, Anybodys, go home, okay? Or go to Doc's, I don't care, just _don't_ get caught." And he was gone, becoming nothing more than a faint echo of shoes pounding against pavement.

Anybodys stared after him for a moment before hearing the whine of a siren and coming back to reality. She pushed back a loose plank in the fence and ducked through it, sliding from shadow to shadow. She scrambled up a fire escape and sprinted across the rooftop of a tenement. She was preparing to climb down the fire escape on the opposite side when she heard it: two sharp notes, the first of which was a piercing staccato and the second of which slid down into a longer note and shot back up as intensely as a bullet. The Jet whistle.

Trembling, Anybodys hurriedly licked her lips and returned it. A blond head poked up over the edge of the building she had just climbed up from and, for the first time in her life, she was relieved to see A-Rab. The hate that she had seen in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by a dull spark, and it made Anybodys feel safer around him. She moved to sit on the ledge, A-Rab dropping down beside her.

"They got you yet?" he asked, his breath coming fast and hard; he, too, had been running.

She shook her head. "No; you?"

A-Rab also shook his head. "Hell, no." He paused. "You been home yet?"

Anybodys, still breathing heavily, let out a scornful puff of air. "Uh-uh."

"Yeah, me neither." A-Rab unzipped his jacket and wiped the perspiration on his upper lip with his sleeve.

"Just hidin' around?" Anybodys asked, more to have something to say than because she truly wanted to know. She hated the quiet, hated how thick and imposing and reminiscent of _death_ it was.

"Uh-huh."

Anybodys screwed her eyes shut, trying to drive out the image of Riff—_her_ Riff, strong and imperturbable as a mountain—lying on the ground, limp and helpless. It didn't make sense anymore, nothing did. "Whaddya say we run away?" she dared, throwing all caution to the winds.

"Whatsamatter; you scared?" A-Rab asked. There was no callousness or mockery in his voice; in fact, he sounded as if he would've gladly dropped everything and ran with her.

Anybodys's throat felt tight and her eyes prickled. "Yeah," she squeaked, willing herself not to cry, not in front of A-Rab. She chewed her lip. "I didn' know a person could have so much blood in 'em…or that it could come out so _fast_…an' they just dropped like _flies_…"

A-Rab stood up abruptly. "Cut it out, ya hear me? Yer only makin' me scared, an' that scares me!" He paced around for a moment, running his hands through his hair. "I gotta go meet up with the fellas."

"I'll go with ya," Anybodys offered, jumping up to her feet. Things were all right between them now, they had to be; he wouldn't confide this much to someone he didn't think was worthy to be a Jet, would he?

But A-Rab shook his head. "No. No. You gotta go home, Anybodys."

"Why?" The question cut across the trembling air like a knife.

He gestured helplessly. "'Cause…'cause yer a girl an' ya might get hurt or, or somethin', I dunno! Just get outta here!"

Anybodys's eyes flashed. "I got just as much a right ta meet up with the guys as you do!"

"Stop tryin' ta be somethin' ya ain't," A-Rab snapped, sounding edgier than he meant to be. "Ya ain't a Jet; yer just a girl!"

Anybodys shoved him, teeth gnashing. "I ain't just a girl!" she hissed, hating how weak her own voice sounded. She shoved him again. "I'm just as good as a Jet, an' I'll prove it! I'll prove it!" Her voice cracked and she could feel the tears coming, and this made her pound even harder on A-Rab's chest.

He caught her wrists and yanked them away from his chest. "Anybodys," he implored, trying to placate her. Something in his expression softened, and there was none of the usual taunting in his face.

But she shook her head violently and yanked her wrists out of his grasp. "_No_!" She scrambled down the fire escape and tore down the street, letting the tears stream down her cheeks and gasping for air she knew wasn't going to come as the rain began to fall.


	10. Better Run, Better Hide

A/N: In a complete contrast to this chapter, I am extremely happy, because I am now on spring break! Also, there was lots of German fun today, involving yet another admission that "David Hasselhoff is _definitely_ sexy!" But that's completely off topic.

I feel the need to mention that after my Very Big Speech on Tuesday night, God sent me a sign that I did well by having one of my judges ask me what my favorite musical is. Three guesses what popped out of my mouth before I even had time to think.

Anyway, there are some parts in the movie that I've tried to explain here; why some of the girls were at the garage (and why some were not), how Ice got his jacket back (I didn't know Tiger grabbed it at the rumble until like the five millionth time I watched it), and how Anybodys was able to drop some eaves on Chino's conversation. I've done the best with what the movie gave us to work with, so apologies if any of it seems far-fetched.

Many, many thanks to **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies** for their reviews; they mean the world to me!

* * *

Graziella hummed along to Helen O'Connell singing "A Pocketful of Dreams," twisting a little bit every now and then and at times shimmying out a few of the steps. She had no idea how long the rumble was going to take; it could be anywhere from five minutes to fifty. She was kind of hoping it would be five minutes; the shorter it was, the more energy Riff would have left in him, and the more energy he had left, well…

"Graziella?"

Graziella ran to the record player and turned down the volume. "Riff?" she asked eagerly, smoothing out any wrinkles that might have cropped up in her lingerie. It was new, a present she'd picked out especially for Riff to see, and she had decided that there was no better time to use it than now.

"No, it's Tiger. Can I come in?"

Her heart sank. "Oh. Hold on a second." She snatched up her peach silk robe and tied the sash hurriedly, loath to let _Tiger_ see her in Riff's special surprise. She pushed back the curtain and leaned against the window frame, raising her eyebrows at a dirty, sweaty and shaking Tiger on her fire escape. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice softening.

Tiger licked his lips. "Graziella…I gotta tell ya…Riff, he…" His voice cracked, and Graziella's heart began to sink.

"Is he okay?" she asked, voice rising several octaves and heart quickening. "Tiger, tell me, is he okay?"

Tiger looked down at his scuffed tennis shoes. "He…he's dead."

Graziella stared at him for a moment. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Stop that. That ain't funny, Tiger. Dammit, that ain't _funny_!"

"It was just s'posed ta be Ice an' Bernardo, but Tony came in, an' Nardo kept pushin' him," Tiger said, still not meeting her eyes. "So Riff punched him an' then they got into it…they took out their knives…Riff ran onto Nardo's…it wasn't s'posed ta happen…"

A dull roar of thunder rumbled through the city as it began to rain. Graziella let out a scream, collapsing onto her knees and sobbing into her hands as the reality set in that Riff, her Riff, was lost forever. Tiger's arms went around her shaking figure and she cried even harder because she knew that she would never feel Riff's arms around her ever again.

* * *

Clarice spread another coat of lipstick on her lips, rubbing them together and then puckering up and kissing thin air. She beamed at her reflection, trying out her different smiles. She even dared a come-hither face and promptly giggled at herself. She was so excited for tonight that she was practically bouncing in her seat. She had never given much thought to the Sharks before, but just for tonight, she wanted the Jets to beat them into the ground so that Frankie would be in a good mood when she saw him. She knew what was coming tonight, and she shivered in anticipation. She heard it begin to rain outside but made no move to close her window, not when Frankie would be coming through it any moment now.

Clarice reached up to pat her hair, her mind still on Frankie, and she slowly let her hands slide down her neck, down her breasts, over her abdomen and fall at her hips. She imagined all the things she would do to him tonight, only increasing her anticipation. She stared at herself in the mirror, searching for stray eyeliner or flecks of mascara or smudged lipstick. Seeing none of this, she allowed herself to admire her reflection, and she beamed again. She heard fumbling at her window and whirled around, seeing Big Deal's arms push it up and poke his head in. She beamed again. "Frankie!"

His sweaty and dirty face did not light up as she had hoped; instead, he looked as if he was on the verge of crying. Frankie _never_ cried; it just wasn't something Jets did. She rose swiftly, hurrying to the window. His arms opened up and she fell into them, hugging him close to her. "Frankie?" she asked in a quieter voice, worried about the way he was trembling. "Frankie, what's wrong? What happened?"

He buried his face in her neck, shaking. He really was crying. She was worried now. He breathed heavily for a few moments before speaking. "Riff's dead."

Clarice pulled back, staring at him. "What?"

He looked away, batting at the tears. "At the rumble…B-Bernardo…he got out a knife, an'…" He let out a small sob. "Tony came. He t-tried ta stop it, but…he p-pulled Riff back, an' then he r-ran at Bernardo, an'…" He choked. "He ran inta the knife." He grabbed at Clarice, clutching her so close it hurt and burying his head in her shoulder, the discrepancy in height nearly breaking her back. "That's not all," he said, his voice muffled. "Tony got s-so mad, he…he killed Bernardo."

She stroked his hair, unable to find the right words. Unable to find _any_ words, come to think of it. She could only hold him and stroke his hair; her brain could not compute anything else but to keep doing it. Big Deal cried for a few more moments. That was what really scared her; he was _crying_. She had never seen him cry. And Riff…oh God…Riff was dead. And Bernardo, too. She immediately felt guilty for hoping the Jets had beaten the Sharks earlier; now their leader was dead.

Big Deal pulled back after what could have been an hour or ten minutes. He wiped at his face, his breathing shakily returning to normal. "I gotta go," he said, voice hoarse and cracking. "I gotta meet up with the rest-a the Jets an', an' form up. I-Ice'll know what ta do."

Clarice didn't want him to go; she wanted him to be near her, _needed_ him to keep holding onto her. She shook her head. "Frankie, no…stay here, with me. Please. It ain't safe out there!"

"I have to," Big Deal sighed. "I gotta make sure the other guys are okay." He put his hands on her shoulders, making sure she was looking him in the eye. "I'll be back. I promise. But ya gotta stay here. Don't you dare leave this room, okay?"

Clarice shook her head so hard that some tears came loose from her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "_No_, I wanna go with ya! Frankie, don' leave me!" Her voice turned pleading as she cupped his face, unwilling to let him go.

Big Deal put his hands over hers. "It ain't safe out there. You could get hurt. Those PRs have chains, knives…it ain't safe. Just, just stay here. Please. I promise, I'll be back, an' then I'll stay with ya all night. But ya hafta _promise_ me you'll stay here."

Clarice hesitated, biting her lip, before nodding. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her; he knew what she should do. She closed her eyes tight as he leaned forward and kissed her long and hard. As he pulled back, she gripped his jacket. "Bernice. She's at Doc's, waitin' fer…waitin' fer the rest-a the guys. If ya see her…"

Big Deal nodded. "I'll tell her." He kissed her one more time, his lips burning hers. She let him go with the greatest reluctance, watching him clamber down her fire escape and disappear into the deep, dark jungle of the city.

* * *

The door to Doc's banged open a little before half past nine. Minnie leapt off of her stool, beaming; she couldn't wait to see Baby John's face when he realized she was there. Her smile slipped when she saw that only a slightly damp Mouthpiece and Gee-Tar were coming into the store, each dirtier than she'd ever seen them and so upset it made her smile disappear completely.

"Hiya, fellas," Bernice greeted, sliding off her stool with an inviting smile. It faded as she realized something was terribly, terribly wrong. "What's goin' on?" she asked.

The boys exchanged glances. Mouthpiece let out a choked sob and dropped onto a stool, his hands gripping his head. Gee-Tar turned to the girls, his face pale underneath the dirt and sweat. "The rumble…somethin' went wrong. Riff…Riff's dead. So's Bernardo."

There was a pregnant pause as Doc and Bernice sucked in their breaths. Minnie made a small whimpering noise, her lower lip trembling. Bernice rushed to put an arm around her and Minnie broke down completely, burying her head in Bernice's shoulder and sobbing. Bernice held the younger girl to her, glancing over Minnie's curly hair at Gee-Tar. "Where's everyone else?"

Gee-Tar shook his head, shrugging. "No idea. We heard the cops comin' an' scattered. I an' Mouthpiece met up a couple blocks ago an' figured most-a the guys would meet up here."

As Bernice led Minnie to a chair in the back, Minnie stopped her and turned to Gee-Tar, who was fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. "Is J-Johnny ok-okay?" she managed to ask, trembling.

Gee-Tar shrugged, his expression pitying. "I ain't seen him, but he seemed fine at the rumble; he was with A-Rab, I think."

Minnie let out an involuntary sob, leaning into Bernice.

"Come on; you just sit down," Bernice murmured, guiding Minnie to a chair and taking the one facing it. Minnie folded her arms on the tabletop, burying her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Bernice rubbed her back, trying not to let her own anguish show; their leader was gone, and nobody knew what to do. She prayed Tony or Ice would show up soon; they would have a plan, she was sure of it.

* * *

Graziella fumbled with her clothes as she dressed—she was so disoriented that she was paying only the mildest attention to what she was doing. She didn't even bother asking if it had stopped raining or not so she would know if she had to cover her hair. What did it matter, really, now that Riff was gone? She didn't care what she looked like—why should she, now that there was no Riff to primp for? Never again was he going to tell her how good she looked, how lucky he was she was his girl; hell, he would never say anything ever again.

She let out a dull, dry sob as she thought of Riff. How could this have happened? It shouldn't have, it really shouldn't have; Ice was supposed to be fighting tonight, not Riff. She knew that they'd been planning on rumbling from the beginning, despite the promise of a fair fight, but this was so unexpected that it just wasn't _fair_. Of all the people she could think of who deserved to die, Riff Lorton was not one of them, not by a long shot.

"Graziella?" Tiger's hesitant voice came from her bedroom, where he was still waiting patiently for her. "Are ya about ready?"

Graziella sighed and strapped on her shoe. "Yeah. I'm ready." She pushed open the door to the closet, her mind dully registering how awkward Tiger looked amongst her things. "Where're we goin'?"

"Doc's," Tiger replied with a slight hesitation, fiddling with Ice's jacket. "Most-a the guys should be meetin' up there."

Graziella nodded wearily. "Let's go, then." She allowed Tiger to help her out the window and down the wet fire escape—what was the point in telling her family she was going out? She didn't care about anything anymore. Tiger kept babbling about how sorry he was and how he was there for her and how if she ever needed anything, anything at all, he would do it for her, and it was driving Graziella nuts. She thought she would find some relief at Doc's, but no such luck—the shocked and pitying expressions everyone gave her only made the tears start up again. She clung to Bernice and Minnie as they guided her quickly to a chair, hushing her and rubbing her back.

"It'll be okay, honey. Shh," Bernice whispered, knowing that the boys were cagey and Graziella's sobs were unlikely to alleviate the situation.

"It w-won't b-be," Graziella choked. "He's d-dead! He's g-gone, a-an', an'…" She was so upset that she couldn't finish, and instead she buried her face in Bernice's skirt, shoulders racking from the violence of her crying.

Bernice stroked her hair, biting her lip as she glanced at Minnie. The younger girl was on the verge of tears herself, but she was making an effort to be strong for Graziella. Minnie was especially upset because Baby John hadn't shown up yet; he could be in all sorts of danger, could end up in the way of Riff and Bernardo, and this scared Minnie so badly that she had been reduced to a frightened bundle of nerves.

The door banged open and Minnie let out a small scream at the abruptness and loudness of it. Joyboy shut the door hurriedly, his dirty face gleaming with perspiration. "We're foimin' up at the parkin' garage," he panted. "Everyone. An' Action says we'd bettah stick to the back alleys; cops're everywhere."

"You can't move her now, look at her!" Bernice exclaimed, gesturing to where Graziella was choking back another sob.

Joyboy shot her an annoyed look. "She's comin' with us; or do _you_ wanna explain ta Schrank why she's cryin' when she ain't s'posed ta know Riff's dead yet?"

Everyone looked fearfully at Graziella, afraid she would break down again, but she sniffed and, heaving a shaky breath, stood up. "It's fine," she said thickly, wiping at her tears. All the same, Bernice and Minnie slipped their arms around her waist, helping her out of the drugstore. They followed the boys in and out of shadowed alleys, careful to avoid being seen. Graziella blindly allowed the girls to lead her, clinging to them as weakly as a newborn foal.

They reached the parking garage a good ten minutes later. Action and Big Deal were already there, Action pacing up and down with the nervous energy of a caged lion and Big Deal leaning against the red delivery truck, looking shell-shocked. They both jerked and looked up as the four Jets and three girls slowed to a stop, gasping for breath.

"I found 'em," Joyboy announced between the hard puffs of breathing. "At Doc's."

Action nodded tightly. "Good. Let's just hope Snowboy finds Ice an' A-Rab. An' Baby John," he added as a derisive afterthought.

"I hope so, too," Minnie murmured.

Graziella stumbled slightly and Bernice and Minnie immediately helped her to a crate by the wall. Graziella gave a weak moan and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and trembling. Minnie stayed beside her, wrapping her arms comfortingly around Graziella's shoulders and rapidly whispering as many reassurances as she could think of in Graziella's ear, even kissing her cheek softly.

Action glanced at Graziella with something akin to annoyance. "Didja hafta bring her?" he spat.

Bernice whirled to fix him with a glare, her hands on her hips. "Lay off her, Action!"

"Don't you start with me!" Action snapped, his finger pointing at her warningly.

"You leave her alone! She didn' ask ta be dragged here; we was only followin' yer _orders_," Bernice said with a disdainful tone.

"Don't you mouth off ta me like that, you stupid broad!" Action snarled, looking as if he would cheerfully throttle her.

Minnie let go of Graziella, standing up with tears in her eyes. "Stop it! Stop fighting!" she cried, sobbing a little. She turned around, wiping furiously at her tears.

Bernice shot Action an infuriated look as she turned to Minnie, hugging her tightly. Minnie sniffled into her shoulder, returning the embrace just as tightly. Action turned away roughly—he would bite Bernice's head off until he was sick of it, but he just couldn't do that to Minnie. Instead, he paced up and down again. "Ya seen anyone else?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"I went straight ta Graziella's," Tiger said quietly, looking at the redhead with the utmost sympathy as she silently shook.

"Me an' Mouthpiece met up close ta Doc's, but we ain't seen anyone else since the rumble," Gee-Tar offered.

"Well, besides Minnie an' Bernice an' Tiger an' Graziella an' Joyboy an' you an' Big Deal," Mouthpiece added with complete seriousness.

"Aw, really?" Action snapped. He just wasn't in the mood to put up with Mouthpiece or his stupidity right now. "How nice-a ya ta tell us, Captain Obvious!"

Minnie gave another small sob, which seemed to quiet Action down. She wiped her eyes furiously, lifting her head off of Bernice's shoulder. "Is it j-just me, or is it k-kind of c-cold out here?" she stuttered, trying to stop the trembling of her jaw.

"It's warmer in here, Minnie," Mouthpiece said from where he was leaning against the entrance to the garage.

Bernice gave Minnie a small, encouraging smile and Minnie quietly slipped out of Bernice's embrace, padding to the garage and moving to lean against the wall of the garage beside Mouthpiece. They spoke quietly, he trying to cheer her up and she trying to make the job easier for him. Bernice turned to Graziella, moving to hold her again. Before her hand was even fully on Graziella's shoulder, however, Graziella shook her off violently, sick of everyone's pity. Bernice stared at her for a moment before moving closer to the garage, holding her arms to stave off the inexplicable chill she felt.

As the others settled onto crates or trashcans, Big Deal moved to speak to Bernice. "I went by yer place aftah the rumble," he told her in a low voice. "Clarice asked me ta look for ya…Bernice, ya might wanna go on home to her…"

Bernice gave him a helpless look. "I can't just up an' leave 'em," she said. Big Deal knew that "them" meant Graziella and Minnie, and he couldn't exactly blame her.

The Jet whistle sounded, and everyone looked up. Action moved forward, returning the whistle impatiently. Snowboy appeared around the corner, followed by Ice and Velma, whose fingers were linked. Graziella even lifted her head. Velma took one look at her and murmured, "Oh, _Graz_." She ran to put her arms around her friend, who was now crying again. Graziella buried her head in Velma's stomach, fresh sobs welling up and shaking her again. Tiger wordlessly handed Ice his jacket, and the taller boy shrugged into it at once.

"Any-a yas seen A-Rab or Baby John?" Action asked, his fists reflexively curling and uncurling.

Snowboy shook his head miserably. "Nah; only Schrank an' Krupke. Y'know, they make a very nice couple."

Ice also shook his head. "Snowboy found us not more'n a couple minutes ago; said all-a yas was meetin' up here."

After a few moments of silence, Snowboy asked suddenly and quietly, "Ya think it hoit bad?"

"I'm cold," Velma said, her voice sounding weaker than she meant it to be.

"Ya want me ta see ya home?" Mouthpiece asked her.

Velma shook her head silently.

"I need a cigarette," Action said abruptly, snapping his fingers.

Tiger fumbled with his pocket and pulled out a pack, handing them around; nearly everyone took one, except for Minnie, Graziella, Mouthpiece and Big Deal. Even Velma, who _never_ smoked, was so shaken up that she accepted a cigarette and Ice's light. Bernice's fingers trembled as she accepted the cigarette from Tiger. It shook on its way to her mouth, and she inhaled the bittersweet fumes eagerly. Anything to numb the pain. Her parents would flip if they could see her now, and Clarice would have kittens, but damn, did she need it.

Silence descended upon them with the cloud of cigarette smoke; no one felt the need or even desire to speak. There was no use in making small talk or joking around—Riff was dead. What else could they say, really? What could be said to ease the pain of his passing?

And so they sat there in silence, the Jets and their girls, mourning the loss of their leader.

* * *

Anybodys held her breath as she crept from shadow to shadow, peering in the windows for a sign of Tony. She wasn't sure which apartment was Maria's, but so far she had run into every kind of family imaginable; families praying, families eating, families shouting and swearing in Spic, but none of the windows held a white boy in them. Anybodys wasn't sure how much longer she could take these garlic-mouthed, gold-toothed, pierced-eared, charcoal-covered creeps, but her determination to find Tony won out over her disgust.

"Chino!"

The sudden shout took Anybodys's off her guard and her footing slipped on the already-wet metal. She grabbed the fire escape clumsily with her hands, her legs dangling and her heart pounding. She dared not even take a breath in case she was heard; she closed her eyes, wincing and waiting to be discovered.

"Chino, where have you been? We have been looking for you!"

Anybodys dared to open her eyes. It was hard to see in the dark, but she could just make out the figures of most of the Sharks, all of whom were turned towards a solitary, trembling figure. Her eyes adjusted, and she recognized the trembling figure as the effeminate boy who had taken Bernardo's jacket at the rumble—his second. This must be Chino.

"I went to tell Maria." Chino's accent, though infused with anger, was still too soft to hold much menace. He bit down on the vowels—a common speech pattern of the Spics.

"How did she take it?" one Shark asked gently.

"She is in shock, she does not know what she says," Chino said, far too quickly for Anybodys's taste. She eased her feet onto the metal ladder, reducing the strain on her arms.

"What does she say?"

Chino made an impatient movement with his shoulders. "She would not believe that that Polack—_Tony_—killed Bernardo. Her _brother_. I think he has poisoned her mind; did you see him chasing after her at the dance?"

"_Aí_, he tries to seduce an innocent girl and then kills her brother!" another Shark said hotly.

"The Jets will pay!"

"_Tony_ will pay!"

"_I_ will make him pay!" Chino shouted. "If it is the last thing I do, I will kill him!" And he whipped something dark and glinting out of his pocket.

The other Sharks murmured in Spanish, some even backing up. Anybodys's mouth fell open and she had to clamp it shut so that her gasp would not be audible; the _last_ thing she needed was for this crazed Spic with a gun to find her in his territory, hanging onto his every word. Chino held it with nervous but determined fingers; his face looked older, somehow, than it had only less than an hour ago.

The Sharks broke into rapid Spanish then, saying things Anybodys could not understand, but she got the general gist of it. Some were imploring Chino not to use it—they seemed to make up the majority of the group. A few were on Chino's side, but they were quickly shouted down by their companions. Chino shouted at all of them, waving the gun around like a madman—which he was, now that Anybodys thought about it.

Chino broke away from the group after about ten minutes of this babble, running out of the alley and down the street. The other Sharks murmured amongst themselves in Spanish once more before dispersing, scattering in twos and threes and vanishing into the shadows. Anybodys gripped the cool, grimy metal of the fire escape, her thoughts a mindless whirl of chaos. There was something going on between Tony and Maria—she knew that even before Chino had just as good as confirmed it. But that was the dangerous part—Chino knew, and he didn't seem happy about it at _all_. He had a _gun_, for crying out loud. And…oh God…he was looking for Tony.

Anybodys bit her lip. She had no clue where the hell Tony was hiding out; probably with Bernardo's sister, Maria. But there had to be a thousand Marias here; if she shouted out Maria's name right here and now, girls and women of every kind would flock to nearly every window. No, finding Maria was a luxury Anybodys did not have right now, not if she wanted to help Tony. She would have to get some back-up from the Jets. She knew they were in no fit mood to put up with her right now; hell, she was fully expecting some bodily harm from them. But Tony—_her_ Tony—was in trouble, and she was willing to help him at whatever cost.

Anybodys shimmied down the fire escape, dropping neatly to her feet with the agility of a cat. Riff had made Ice his fighter; no doubt Ice was in charge now. She was heartened by this; Ice wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to screw with, but he would hear her out, and she _knew_ that he would want to help Tony. The only problem now was _finding_ Ice. She doubted he'd be at Doc's; that was the first place the coppers would look. No, it would have to be somewhere remote, a hangout of the Jets that no one else really knew about. But that could be half of Manhattan.

Cursing silently (she didn't dare make a noise), Anybodys darted out of the alleyway, taking great pains to keep to the shadows. Time was running out, and the longer it took to find the Jets, the closer Chino was to hurting Tony. With this thought in mind, she broke into a run, not even allowing herself the luxury of breathing as she began her mission.


	11. Get Cool, Boy

A/N: I had originally intended to have this up on Thursday, as per usual, but I'm going out of town until then and decided eh, why not? This chapter features one of my personal favorite scenes; "Cool." I am just going to say right here and now that this was probably the hardest chapter to write, _including_ "Gee, Officer Krupke." That song was a little easier because the lyrics weren't too different from dialogue; "Cool," on the other hand, is _definitely_ lyrical. I had to compromise here, which, in my opinion, pretty well raped the song; I left out several lyrics and changed the remaining ones into admittedly cheesy-sounding dialogue. So I apologize in advance for raping the best song in the whole movie; I'm afraid this was the best my creativity would allow.

Also, I would like to add that this chapter has undergone some heavy, heavy revision, and I am now much happier with it. Anyway, the new content of this chapter was very, very heavily inspired by **Vee's** fell the angels, which is a must-read for any WSS fan. Hope you like!

The very sincerest of thanks to **Vee** and **Meg** for their reviews, and a very sincere apology to **Meg**; I SO wish I could come see your show, but as I was unable to find a job (thank you, recession, for making me exceedingly poor), I couldn't go. Break a leg!

* * *

Bernice took a drag of her cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the acrid smoke slowly. They probably had been there less than an hour, probably closer to thirty minutes, but there was no way of knowing; Riff had been the only Jet to wear a watch (although he kept busting them when he got into fights), and he wasn't with them now.

God. Riff.

Riff had been around for as long as anybody could remember; he was forever entwined with the Jets. The Jets could get along without Tony, but Riff? It was impossible. It was as if they were all waiting patiently for Riff to return from one of his many secret schemes, waiting for him to bound right in and ask them why the long faces and Graziella would jump up and attach herself to him and Action would pound his fist and make an impatient comment about busting some heads and Anybodys would pop out and ask if she could join the gang and A-Rab would make some pervy comment about it and everyone would laugh and everything would be okay.

Talk about a pipe dream.

Hardly anyone was moving, save for a pacing Ice, and Action, who was beating his fist against his thigh. It was annoying Bernice, but she didn't dare tell him to stop—she was already pushing her limits with him. Graziella had stopped crying awhile ago and was leaning against the wall now, her eyes closed; still and silent, Bernice wondered if she had fallen asleep. Velma, ever the faithful attendant, stood beside her, her hardly-used cigarette hanging from her hand. She, too, was as still as a statue. Minnie was still inside the garage, and Bernice was leaning against the brick wall of the garage beside Joyboy, who was sitting carefully on the rim of a trashcan. No one dared make a noise or move, save to bring their cigarette to or from their dry mouths.

The Jet whistle pierced the air, and everyone craned their necks to look at the direction the sound had come from. Ice jolted forward as everyone got up, moving forward to peer at the two light blobs in the distance. Graziella even turned to watch. Ice returned the whistle and snapped his fingers in a "get over here" gesture. The two figures scrambled down from the wall at once, jogging forward.

Graziella, who had just shaken herself from the lightest of slumbers, gazed blearily at the two jogging figures, thinking for one wild moment that Riff and some other Jet were coming, that he was alive and she'd been waiting for him and oh God, had she mussed her hair? He was alive, everyone had made a mistake…and then A-Rab and Baby John passed under the light and she turned away, willing herself not to cry again. She was just being stupid—Riff wasn't coming back, and she knew it.

Minnie, who had come out of the garage, felt her heart lift at the sight of Baby John. He had been the last Jet to show up, but he was alive and he was safe and he was here with her, and that in itself set her heart at ease. For one fleeting moment, she even forgot about Riff and Bernardo—how could she possibly think of anything else when Baby John was here? She wanted to run to him, to twine herself to him and never let go, but Ice stepped forward, grabbing A-Rab's shoulders. "Hey, where ya been?"

"Where d'ya think we been, the Stork Club?" A-Rab quipped, in his element as always. This seemed to set the Jets at ease, if even for a moment; the fact that A-Rab still had a quick tongue made things have some semblance of normalcy again.

"We thought they nabbed ya!" Snowboy exclaimed as Baby John quickly sat down beside a barrel.

"Aw, go on," A-Rab said with more bravado than he felt, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He hadn't seen Anybodys yet, and that worried him—the last time he had seen her, she was in near hysterics and threatening to prove herself to the Jets, which could mean anything. He wished she was here, where at least he knew she wasn't out getting knifed by Puerto Ricans or…damn it, why the hell was he worried about her?

"Ya didn't see Tony, huh?" Ice asked.

A-Rab glanced at Baby John. "Nah, nuttin' but coppers."

Action, who had been eyeing the pale and trembling Baby John with something almost akin to concern (if concern were something Action was capable of), indicated him with his cigarette. "What's wrong with him?"

Baby John stood and turned away from the gang, unwilling to let them see him in such a weak state. A-Rab moved quickly toward him, knowing how Action could be with Baby John. "There's nuthin' wrong with him; he's okay, ya get it?"

"All right, all right," Action said harshly, more than a little annoyed that his best pal was jumping down his throat. He turned away as A-Rab gripped Baby John's shoulders, squeezing them as comfortingly as he dared.

"Maybe we oughta go home," Snowboy tentatively suggested. Minnie silently agreed with him.

"Fa what?" Action sneered. Velma sighed, flicking her cigarette to the ground—it had done little to calm her nerves, and it obviously wasn't working for the boys.

"Betcha they got him," Big Deal said in a quiet voice, his hand curling into a fist.

"Not Tony," Ice said, appearing to address his best pal but really talking to everyone. They were losing it, all of them, and he had to be that damn little Dutch boy with his finger in the dam.

"Oh, man, he was great—huh, Baby John?" A-Rab said, more to distract Baby John than anything.

Baby John turned around, his eyes lighting up briefly. "Well, yeah! He really come t'r'u fa the Jets!"

Heartened, A-Rab smiled. "Just like Riff said he…" he trailed off, realizing what he had just said as everyone visibly tensed. "…said he would," he mumbled.

Soft whimpers from Graziella grew into trembling, restrained sobs, building until she burst, "Riff, I want Ri-i-i-iff!" she wailed, turning and burying her face in Velma's sweater. Velma's arms went around her shaking shoulders at once, stroking the thick red curls as she murmured softly to her best friend.

"Come on, Graziella," Mouthpiece said pleadingly, moving to stand beside her.

Velma stroked Graziella's hair and pressed shushes onto the older girl, suppressing the sobs. She knew Graziella was upset, knew she had every right to cry. But these boys were tense, coiled as tightly as a wire, and Graziella's crying was just another thing that could set them off. She wouldn't admit it, especially not with Graziella clinging to her, but Velma was scared stiff of these boys, scared of what would happen should she cross their path. Even Bernice, normally so cool and collected, seemed frazzled and edgy.

"Gee…nobody was supposed ta get…killed," Tiger said, his voice sounding awed at the prospect, as if Riff had only died a moment ago instead of a full hour ago. "It just…" he trailed off, throwing an amoeba-sized piece of paper he'd been playing with as Graziella's sobs choked out.

Action swirled around, his fury building up. "They're gonna pay," he said, his voice hard and determined, like a train barreling down tracks.

"Them stinkin' Sharks," A-Rab muttered, his voice taking on a bitter edge of resentment.

"Doity fighting," Snowboy added helplessly, wanting _something_ done so that they wouldn't have to sit around and mope. He had to _do_ something.

"They started it," A-Rab said, turning to look at the others with wide eyes.

"So why don't we _finish_ it?" Action suggested, eyes gleaming with this exciting prospect. "We gotta show who 'em who's on top!"

"Cool it, Action," Ice warned, but he went unheard by the others.

"The Jets!" Joyboy piped up, looking revved up for another rumble.

"Let's do it now!" Action urged, thumping the chests of the Boyer twins excitedly.

"Easy!" Ice tried to say, but again, no one would listen.

"Ain't we had enough?" Baby John pleaded, his voice growing higher and gaining volume. Minnie felt her heart soar for Baby John in that moment.

Action whirled to face him in disgust. "Whatsamatter…you _scared_?" he taunted, his voice taking on a bitter, mocking tone.

Baby John drew himself up to his fullest height, hoping and praying that Action and the guys and the chicks (but mostly Minnie) wouldn't see how petrified he was. "Who you callin' scared?" he asked bravely.

"Lay off of him," A-Rab complained, tapping Action lightly in the chest as he walked by. He knew that Baby John could hold his own, for the most part—he was a Jet for a reason. But he wasn't _about_ to let the kid deal with _Action_, _especially_ not under the present circumstances.

"Mind ya own business," Action spat, fed up with A-Rab rushing to the punk's defense every damn minute of the day.

"Don't sound off on me, I'll hitcha in yer stupid—!" A-Rab threatened, shoving Action.

"You'll do what?" Action challenged, lunging for A-Rab and shaking him furiously.

"Knock it off!" Ice barked.

The Jets leapt into the fray, tugging a struggling Action away and even restraining an incensed A-Rab. Velma shielded Graziella as Mouthpiece and A-Rab nearly toppled over on them. On the other side of the ruckus, Minnie was valiantly trying to pull Snowboy and Gee-Tar back, but the two boys took no notice of her admittedly weak hands.

The sound of something shattering rent through the air, and everyone jumped in shock. Velma let out a shriek and from the crashing bottle thoughtlessly scampered behind the Jets, as if this would hide her better from anymore projectiles. Graziella darted to the garage, taking cover in the entrance.

"Shut up down there, ya dirty bunch-a good-for-nuthin's! Why don'tcha go home where you belong?" shouted a shadowy figure from the window above.

"Who you callin' good-for-nuthin', ya loudmouth crud-head?" Action screamed. He swiped a chunk of concrete from the ground and raised it up. "Come on down, I'll put this through ya stupid face!"

Ice seized Action by the shoulders, tossing him towards the garage. "Get inside, all of you!" he bellowed, hustling everyone inside. The girls scampered ahead of everyone, scooting out of the reach of the furious Action; Big Deal grabbed Velma, who had fallen to the rear, and shepherded her inside as the others tried to restrain Action. Ice slammed the door closed. "Shut up!" he shouted, his voice resonating above the others.

Action tore himself from the restraining hands of the others and whirled to face him, pointing a threatening finger shaking with barely suppressed rage at Ice. "I don't hafta take none-a that from nobody! Next creep who sounds on me, I swear the next guy who gets in my craw, I'll—"

"You'll _laugh_!" Ice cut across him, flicking on the headlights of a truck facing them. Everyone blinked in surprise, looking like frogs in a swamp caught by a flashlight. Ice took slow, measured steps towards them, eyeing them in disgust. "Yeah. Now, you all better dig this an' dig it _good_." He glanced around at all of them before turning to Action, a finger pointing at him. "No matter _who_ or _what_ is eatin' you…man, you show it an' you are _dead_!"

As if to emphasize this point, Velma flicked on another pair of headlights to the side. Everyone jerked to look at her before relaxing, realizing it wasn't a cop or an atomic bomb like they were expecting.

Ice shook his head slightly, disbelief mingled with disgust at their jumpiness. "You are cuttin' a _hole_ in yourselves fer _them_ ta stick in a red-hot umbrella…and open it, wide!" He forced some of the anger out of his tone—it would not do to lose his cool now. "Man, you wanna get past the cops when they start askin' about tonight? Ya play it cool. Ya wanna live in this _lou_sy world? Play it cool."

Action, however, was not to be so easily swayed. "I wanna get even!" he declared, making a fist.

"Get cool!" Ice corrected, holding up that warning finger again.

"I wanna bust!" A-Rab declared.

"Bust cool!" Ice said.

"I wanna _go_!" Action shouted, lunging for the door.

"_Go_ _cool_!" Ice grabbed Action's arm and swung him around to face him, fixing his ice-like eyes on the shorter boy. "Yer actin' crazy, boy, when ya oughta act _cool_. Ya can't play it cool if ya got a rocket in yer pocket." He turned to face the other Jets, making it known his words applied to _all_ of them. ""I know yer all hot an' ready ta go right now—but _man_, we've got some high times ahead, buddy-boys." He turned back to Action. "Take it _slow_, an' y'know what'll happen, daddy-o? You won't hafta die now; you can live it up an' die an old man in yer _bed_."

The Jets began to turn away, most wanting to shrug off Ice and his little mantra; it may have worked for him, but they just couldn't keep cool, not with Riff dead, not with those damn Sharks still out there, not with Tony missing and the world still spinning as if they didn't matter.

But Ice wasn't finished with them. "I know it's hard, but ya gotta stay loose. Breeze it," he snapped, "buzz it," he snapped again, "easy does it—just turn off the juice. You can go anytime ya like—but _not_ if yer gonna bounce around like a little kid's yo-yo. Just play it _cool_."

There was a long pause as they considered this. Graziella took a deep breath, trying to force herself to follow Ice's advice. Without warning, Action slammed his fists on a truck, freezing the others.

"_Easy,_ Action," Ice warned, watching him intently. A beat, and then the danger passed.

"But…but what about the Sharks?" Baby John asked, eyes wide. "They're gonna wanna come after us after T-Tony k-killed Bernardo…ain't they?"

"We oughta go home," Snowboy said quietly.

"Nobody's goin' home," Big Deal said in a tight voice, fist clenching.

"Then what're we gonna do?" Tiger asked in a skeptic voice.

"We're gonna _rip_ those Sharks ta _shreds_," Joyboy growled, pounding his fist into his palm and ignoring Velma as she hissed at him to be quiet, eyeing Minnie nervously.

"Oh, don't _say_ that!" Minnie begged, hugging her arms and shivering at the thought.

"He didn't mean it, Minnie," Gee-Tar hastened to assure her.

A-Rab pounded his fist into his palm over and over again. "No, he's right," he said, breathing hard. "We oughta tear those dirty Sharks _limb from limb_—"

"Cool it, A-Rab, cool it, _cool_ it!" Ice urged, gripping his shoulders.

A-Rab chuckled nervously, sliding out of Ice's grip. "Don't worry about it, daddy-o; I'm _cool_." He turned away before whirling back around, shouting "POW!" and pointing a gun-shaped hand at the ceiling. Then he burst into laughter, slapping his knees in glee at his little joke.

Bernice moved to flick on another set of headlights, bathing Graziella in the pale yellow beam. She breathed hard for a few minutes before giving up and crying. "I can't _do it_, Vel, I just can't do it!" she wailed, allowing a worried Velma and Minnie to flutter around her and try to soothe her. "I can't just pretend it didn't _happen_!"

"Gee, don't cry, Graziella," Tiger begged, rushing over to offer her his handkerchief. "It'll be okay."

"Yeah, we just gotta play it cool!" Mouthpiece, who was towed along by Tiger, chirped. "Right, Velma?"

"Er, right." Velma blinked.

Minnie sniffled, wiping her eyes, and a nearby Snowboy chuckled wryly as he patted her back. "Don't you start up."

Ice jerked his head at the girls, keeping his gaze on the Jets. It wasn't just about them anymore—it was about the girls, too. "Play it cool. Fer their sakes."

"Yeah?" Action snapped. "How the hell're we s'posed ta _play it cool_ when the cops're tryin' ta pick us all up? They're gonna take one look at Graziella an' figure she knows somethin'."

"Shut up, Action!" Graziella snapped, moving away from the girls to look at him. "I can pretend I don't know from nuthin', an' if I can play it cool, you sure as hell can too!"

There was a pregnant pause as everyone waited for Action to jump down her throat; the two exes never did get along well after Graziella broke things off when they were fourteen. After glaring for a long moment, Action turned away and slammed his fist into his palm.

Big Deal rolled his head. "Don't worry, daddy-o," he said in a calm voice. "We'll play it cool."

"I wanna yell," Action said out nowhere, clenching his fists.

"Go for it," Ice said, shrugging indifferently.

Action glanced at him before letting out a shout and punching the air. Big Deal imitated him, and Gee-Tar (unsurprisingly) copied him, and then all of them started shouting and punching and kicking until they could forget what they had seen tonight. Action shaped his hand into a gun, aiming it at Baby John. "POW, POW!" he shouted.

Baby John, to all their surprise (and relief), returned the gesture. "BANG, BANG!" He grabbed his stomach and stumbled as Action pretended to shoot him again.

Soon all of the Jets were pretending to shoot each other or stab each other, their cries so loud and so violent that Minnie paled. Graziella, seeing this, shouted, "Hey! What happened ta playin' it cool?"

Ice nodded sharply at the Jets, who unfurled their gun-shaped hands. "Graziella's right. Don't go out there crazy like ya are now. Go out _cool_. Stay loose. Turn off the juice. An' just—"

"Play it cool," A-Rab said with a knowing smirk. "I think we get the picture by now, daddy-o."

Ice shook his head, his eyes flitting to each and every one of them. "You sure?"

"We got it, Ice," Big Deal said in a confident voice, stepping forward. Everyone else stepped in as well, adding their own promises. The girls assured him with fervency that they could play it cool—they had to.

Ice nodded, tight and slow. "Okay," he said, clapping Action on the shoulder. "Let's go."

The Jets fell into step behind Ice, snapping their fingers as indifferently as if they were strutting down the streets. The girls followed, looking determined. Graziella felt more in control now, less distressed—crying over Riff would have to wait. Right now, she _had_ to play it cool, or else she'd just get the rest of them into trouble. She walked beside Velma, forcing herself not to think too hard about anything other than the steady rhythm of the snapping fingers around her.

"Bop!" A-Rab exclaimed, more for kicks than because he was actually afraid of losing it.

"Pow!" Mouthpiece shouted, grinning to himself as he imitated A-Rab.

"Bo!" Baby John yelped, his attempt at copying his buddies mangled as he called out the first nonsense word that came to mind. He flushed, but no one paid him much mind. Ice pushed back the door and Gee-Tar held it back as everyone else filed through, still snapping steadily as they clustered behind Ice. Gee-Tar shut the door and joined the throng, all of them now sending hard, cool stares up at the window where the loudmouthed crud-head had disappeared.

"Pow," Action said quietly, making a gun motion towards the window. The snapping ceased with this benediction of sorts, their gazes cutting into the window for a moment. Then, Ice jerked his head, motioning for the Jets to follow him.

Bernice glanced at Big Deal as they left the alley. "I'm gonna go home," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Big Deal nodded, licking his lips. "Good. She…she needs ya."

Bernice gave a tight nod and slipped back, taking the opposite direction of the Jets. She glanced up as a small figure in yellow darted past her—Anybodys.

The tomboy's heart was pounding furiously and her lungs were aching and her legs were ready to give out, but she put on a new burst of speed as she saw the Jets. Ice was with them, and this made her legs quicken. "Hey buddy-boys!" she shouted, her shrill voice ringing out and bouncing off the grimy brick walls of the buildings.

The Jets glanced over their shoulders but did not stop. Action waved an impatient hand at her as he sneered, "Aw, go wear a skoit!"

"Aw, I got scabby knees," Anybodys said, shrugging off the taunt; there were more important things. "Listen—"

"First thing we do, we start showin' around like we got _nuthin'_ ta hide," Ice said, ignoring Anybodys as she shouted for him to listen again. Graziella and Velma rolled their eyes at the younger girl, but Minnie craned her neck to look at Anybodys.

"Well, supposin' they ask us about the rumble?" A-Rab piped up.

"Supposin' they ask ya where's Tony an' what party's lookin' for him…with a _gun_!" Anybodys added the last part after a dramatic pause, boring her eyes into Ice's and effectively stopping the Jets with her words.

Shock registered on all of the dirty faces. Ice raised his eyebrows. "Hey, you know somethin'?"

Seeing that she had their attention now, Anybodys drew herself up smugly. "I know I gotta go get a skoit," she said loftily, making to walk away.

Ice wasn't letting her get away that easily. "Come _on_, Anybodys!" he snapped, yanking her arm back with bruising force.

A-Rab was annoyed. No, more than annoyed—pissed. Who the _fuck_ did she think she was, scaring the _shit_ out of him and then waltzing back here as if everything was just fine and dandy? Images of her limp body, lying in a gutter and stained with blood, had flooded his mind, and here she was making them _beg_ for information. "Aw, what's the freak know?" he sneered, more pissed at himself than her—why the hell should he be worrying so much about her?

"Plenty!" Anybodys snapped, her eyes positively alight with triumph. "I figured _somebody_ oughta infiltrate PR territory an' spy aroun'! I'm very large with shadows, y'know…I can slip in an' out of 'em like wind t'r'u a fence!" she added, becoming lost for a moment in delusions of grandeur.

Graziella and Velma exchanged eye-rolls as Snowboy tried to start up the taunting. "Hoo boy, is she evah makin' the most of it!"

"You betcha fat A I am!" Anybodys snapped, her triumph dissipating into frustration.

Ice, fed up, grabbed the front of her shirt and jerked her so that she would look at him. "Spill it!"

"Okay!" Anybodys relented, yanking his hand off of her. "I hear Chino tellin' the Sharks somethin' about Tony an' Bernardo's sistah."

"Yeah," Ice said, nodding as he waited intently for the big news.

"An' then I hear Chino say, 'If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna get that Polack!'" she said, imitating Chino's flowery accent. "An' then, he pulls out the bad news!" she finished, her hand taking the shape of a gun as if to emphasize the gravity of the situation.

Graziella and Velma exchanged looks again, but this time they were not sarcastic. Graziella felt a grudging sort of respect for the tomboy—it had taken balls to do what she had done. Maybe she belonged with the Jets after all. Minnie bit her lip, her hand coming up to touch Baby John's back softly; she had to feel that he was there, reassure herself that he was safely beside her.

"Gee," Baby John said, eyes wide both with fear and with the electric current he felt coursing from Minnie's delicate little fingers.

"What'd I tell ya; them PRs won't stop!" A-Rab piped up, glancing at Action.

"'Til we stop 'em!" Action added, watching Ice hopefully.

"Hold it!" Ice said sternly, effectively silencing any other comments. "Now _listen_. Tony come through fer us—we gotta come through for Tony. We gotta find him before Chino finds him."

"An' boins him!" Snowboy added, earning nods of agreement from the others.

"You guys cover the river," Ice instructed, pointing at Joyboy, Tiger and Mouthpiece. They took off. "Snowboy, get over to Doc's." The brunet tore off after his twin and Mouthpiece.

"I'll take the back alleys," Baby John offered, sprinting away at Ice's approval.

"I an' Graziella'll take to the streets," Velma offered, tugging Graziella's hand as they set off. Minnie followed them, confused. "Hurry up, Minnie!" Velma called, causing the younger girl to pick up the pace in order to keep up with them.

"I'll cover the park," Gee-Tar volunteered, setting off without waiting for approval.

"The schoolyard," Big Deal offered, only taking off once Ice had given him a nod.

"We'll take the playground," Action said, volunteering himself and A-Rab. They darted away at Ice's concession. Ice himself began to run, but he did not get far.

"Hey, what about me?" Anybodys demanded to know, not about to let him get away from her while she had him right where she wanted him: listening to her.

Ice considered this, looking her up and down appraisingly. "You?"

"Uh-huh," Anybodys said hopefully, already able to tell that he was going to take her seriously.

"In an' outta the shadows," Ice decided. "Maybe you'll find Tony in one of 'em."

"Right!" Anybodys exclaimed, overjoyed at being given a task. She set off as if someone had lit a match underneath her, newly energized by Ice's acceptance of her.

"Hey!" Anybodys came to a halt at Ice's sharp call. He paused before nodding and cracking a small, almost brotherly smile. "Ya done good, buddy-boy."

Anybodys's face could've easily lit up Times Square and then some. "Thanks…daddy-o!" she said, her heart ceasing to beat altogether as it soared. Riff was gone and Chino was out looking for Tony with a gun—but Ice had called her "buddy-boy."


	12. Visitors Forbidden

A/N: I am just going to preface this chapter by saying that this was probably my least favorite one to write. What almost happened to Anita (and what really did happen to Rita Moreno) is probably my greatest fear, and there were a few times when I had to just click out of the Microsoft Word document because I just felt nauseous. Rape is a very touchy and, in my case, a very squicky subject, and I would completely understand if it makes anyone uncomfortable. I really would've preferred not to include it, but as this story documents the movie via the eyes of the Jet Girls—and Anybodys is most certainly affiliated with the Jets—I had to include it. So if reading about rape (even near-rape) is a serious issue for you, please do not feel the need to read this chapter; if you've seen the movie, you should be fine skipping this one.

As usual, I am indebted to my reviewers for their input; without it, I would probably not feel the need to press on :)

* * *

Clarice sat up as she heard some fumbling at the window. But it was not her window; it was Bernice's window. Frowning, she slid off her bed, hurrying to Bernice's window and wondering what Big Deal was doing as she wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks.

It wasn't Big Deal; it was Bernice. She might've known. Bernice was sweating and panting for breath as she clambered in through the window and onto her bed. Clarice poked her head out the window, glancing around for any sign of life; when she found none, she pulled herself back in, closing the window. "Where've _you_ been?"

Bernice took a deep breath, kneeling on her bed. "With the others. I was waitin' at Doc's when…" She swallowed. "Big Deal said he came by here. Clarice, he looked _awful_…all the guys did." Her voice was hushed, as if it were improper to speak of the Jets like this.

Clarice sat beside Bernice. "I know. Frankie, he…it was terrible."

Bernice moved to sit down, folding her legs underneath her. "He asked me ta come back here so ya wouldn' be alone. An' Minnie—"

"What about Minnie?" Clarice asked, upset at the thought of young, innocent Minnie surrounded by a group of temperamental Jets.

"She'll be fine; Graziella an' Velma are lookin' after her," Bernice assured her, seeing that Clarice was upset enough as it was.

Clarice looked up sharply, surprised. "Graziella's there? How is she?"

Bernice shook her head. "Terrible, just like ya'd expect. Tiger was the one ta break the news to her…she was a mess. She wouldn' let anyone but Velma touch her. We were all about ta go crazy—well, all the guys were, anyway—an' Ice shoved us all in the parkin' garage an' made us shake out everythin' until we were cool. I was better off than most of 'em, but still…Geeze Louise, I've never been more scared-a people in all my life, an' these're the _Jets_."

Clarice swallowed. "I'm scared, too."

Bernice sat down fully, her legs hanging over the side of the bed. She hesitated before putting an arm around Clarice's waist. "C'mon; I know yer scared stiff an' about ta bust. Go ahead."

Clarice gave a small sigh of relief before dropping her head onto Bernice's shoulder. It had been years since they had been this nice to each other, and she missed it. Bernice stroked her hair, murmuring softly that it would be all right, she'd see.

But it wasn't herself Clarice was worried about—it was Big Deal.

* * *

Velma glanced at the two girls flanking her, nervous at both of them. She was worried about Graziella for obvious reasons; the redhead hadn't cracked yet, but that didn't mean a panic attack wasn't imminent. And Minnie…well, Velma never was certain about Minnie. The younger girl had been uncharacteristically quiet, and her eyes were wide with fear, and Velma grasped desperately at any form of conversation to distract them both. "I sure hope Tony's okay, don't you?"

Graziella lifted and dropped her slender shoulders, making a noncommittal noise.

"Johnny went off by himself…do you think he'll be all right?" Minnie asked in a would-be unconcerned voice, her high pitch betraying her anxiety. She wrung her skirt in her hands, trembling ever so slightly.

Velma and Graziella shared a glance. Velma moved to put an arm around the younger girl's waist. "I'm sure he'll be just fine, Minnie," she soothed in her most reassuring voice. "He's a Jet—Jets know how ta take care of 'emselves."

_Jets know how ta take care of 'emselves_. That was the assumption Velma had always gone under…up until tonight. Riff, the surest, most self-sufficient of the Jets had fallen; if he could get knifed, what was to stop any of the other Jets, let alone little kids like _Baby John_? _Not_ that Velma was going to let Minnie know this; Graziella was already teetering on the brink of hysterics, and sending Minnie into a panic attack would not help matters in the slightest.

Minnie gave Velma a weak smile. "Do you really think so, Velma?"

Velma forced a tight smile in response. "A-course. Now c'mon; let's go see if we can find Tony."

And so the three girls ran into the night, hands linked and hearts aching for what had been, what was, and what would come to be.

* * *

Anybodys, true to Ice's orders, slipped in and out of the shadows, her heart positively dancing with excitement. For once, she didn't have to pretend she was an important Jet spy saving a gang member's life; she had really become important to the Jets (which was the same thing as an important Jet—wasn't it?) and was spying and saving a gang member's life. How much more of a dream come true could you ask for?

Anybodys vaguely remembered the alleyway she had become trapped in when Chino and the Sharks had circled up, and she ran that way now. Her feet slowed; the less sound she made, the better. None of the Sharks were here now, but that didn't mean they weren't lurking in the shadows like she was. Right as she glanced at a shadow, wondering if it concealed Chino and his gun, a figure moved above her and she froze, petrified someone was coming for her. She saw a flash of a blue shirt and sighed in relief—Tony. The Jet descended the fire escape, and he and Anybodys jogged to meet each other. She came to a stop in front of him, speaking in a low, pleading voice. "Tony, Chino's gonna come back for ya—ya gotta hide!"

Tony's face paled. "Chino…how do you know?"

"I was lookin' for ya an' I hoid him talkin' to the Sharks…Tony, he's got a _gun_," Anybodys whispered, trying to be quieter than the snatches of Spanish wafting on the cool evening breeze. "Ice sent us all out ta look for ya."

Tony's hands shook ever so slightly, but he pulled his jacket on determinedly. "Okay. Where to?"

Relieved at his compliance (which was a pleasant contrast to his earlier behavior), Anybodys said, "Doc's. All the guys'll be meetin' up there sooner or later. Come on!" She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the alleyway and into the shadows lining the streets.

Tony marveled at the intense tomboy before him—he remembered when she was a little girl in uneven pigtails and covered with scabs. That little girl was hardly discernible now underneath the boys' clothes and the dirt and grime and sweat and hate. No, not hate—Anybodys still hadn't fully explored that emotion; if she had, she probably wouldn't be trotting after the Jets day in and day out. No, Anybodys seemed to emanate fear more than anything else. Fear for him, fear for the Jets, fear for herself, fear of Sharks with guns running loose in the dark.

Anybodys pulled Tony into Doc's, both panting for breath—it was difficult to keep their breathing quiet while running. Snowboy, who was pacing the floor nervously, jerked. "Tony!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up as he grasped Tony's arm. "Where ya been?"

"It's a long story," Tony said, glancing around uneasily.

Doc, who had been standing uneasily behind the counter, nearly collapsed in relief. He came around the counter, also grasping Tony's arms, but he did so with a fatherly sort of affection. "Tony, thank God! Snowboy told me ya'd gone missin', I didn't know what ta think…"

The door pushed open and Ice came barreling through with a speed that suggested he had dashed all the way over here. He took in his surroundings with his usual, just-barely-impressed eyes. "Tony!"

"I found him," Anybodys said at once, intent on proving that she was just as good as any Jet, maybe even better.

Ice gave her a rare pat on the shoulder as he moved past her to talk to Tony. "Listen, I dunno how much you know, but Chino's comin' after ya with a gun, an' he's probably got the rest-a the Sharks on his side. The rest-a the gang is lookin' for ya, even the girls, but they should be meetin' up here in a little bit." He hesitated. "Listen, Tony…none of us…we don't blame ya fer Bernardo…"

The door swung open as Joyboy, Tiger and Mouthpiece stumbled in, nearly tripping over themselves as they skidded to a stop. Joyboy leaned down to rest his hands on his thighs, panting. "We can't…find T—oh." For he realized that Tony was standing right in front of him.

"Gee, what happened to yer shirt, Tony?" Mouthpiece asked, intrigued.

"Aw, whaddya think, ya dope?" Anybodys snapped. Ice rolled his eyes and grabbed her upper arm, heaving her without any effort at all onto the end stool. She pouted but said nothing.

Turning to Tony, Ice said, "Ya might wanna hide out in the cellar fer awhile, 'til things cool down."

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah…yeah that's a good idea." He moved towards the cellar and paused. "Doc, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Tony," Doc said dubiously, following Tony downstairs.

"What do we do now?" Mouthpiece asked.

"We wait," Ice said firmly. "Tiger, you got a smoke?"

Tiger nodded and obligingly tossed Ice a cigarette. Ice felt his pockets for his lighter and lit up his cigarette with a calm, almost unconcerned air as Mouthpiece dragged a chair towards the dartboard, sitting down heavily. The twins hopped up on stools, grabbing candy as they did so. They were all becoming just a little bit more relaxed now that Tony was here. Big Deal and Gee-Tar darted in a few moments later and, after being updated, moved to lean against the wall and counter, respectively.

Heavy footsteps fell upon the stairs, and Doc appeared a few moments later, looking resignedly upset. "I'll be back in a few minutes…need ta get money fa Tony," he mumbled, his limp more pronounced than ever before as he left the store.

"Fa what?" Gee-Tar asked, frowning.

"Tony can't run as fast as you, so he's gonna bring money ta bribe the bulls," Snowboy explained with his usual air of supreme omniscience.

"C'mon, cut the frabbajabba," Ice said patiently.

"Yeah! The cops'll get hip, if Chino an' the PRs don't," Anybodys piped up, asserting her new (and assumed) authority.

"Aw, shove it up yer ol' wazoo," Gee-Tar muttered, but at a Significant Look from Ice, he closed his mouth and looked down.

A hush descended upon the candy store. There was nothing more to be said, and so each Jet turned to his (or in Anybodys's case, her) own thoughts, the what ifs and maybes running through their minds. Anybodys clasped her hands and rested them on her legs, contemplating the turn her life had taken in such a short amount of time. Most of all, she wondered if she was really and truly a Jet now, just like she always wanted. Ice _had_ sent her out on a mission…but then again, he had sent the other girls out, too. He was letting her hang around here with the rest of the fellas…but at this point it would've been stupid to send her out where the cops might nab her and interrogate her.

The sound of a car horn and a faint squeal of tires drifted inside, and a moment later the door slammed open. Anybodys slipped off the stool and onto her feet as Action, A-Rab and Baby John skidded to a stop beside her, looking at Ice breathlessly.

"We can't find him!" Action informed Ice.

"He ain't _no_where!" A-Rab added, as if to further inculcate this piece of information.

Ice, unperturbed, jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "_Right_ down there in the cellar."

"Tony?" Baby John asked, his face lighting up as Action peered into the cellar to check that Tony really was there, A-Rab peering over his shoulder.

"Safe 'n' sound!" Snowboy confirmed with a gleeful flourish.

"I found him!" Anybodys piped up proudly, a triumphant grin on her face. Take _that_, A-Rab.

"You warn him about Chino?" A-Rab asked, Action closing the door behind him.

"Yeah," Ice assured him.

"What's he doin' in the cellar?" Baby John asked, clueless.

Anybodys rolled her eyes—God, but she was surrounded by morons. "Keepin' the mice company, stupid!" she snapped.

Ice, rolling _his_ eyes, grabbed her upper arm again and, with an effortless jerk, deposited her onto her stool once more. "No sign of Chino, huh?"

A-Rab looked faintly disappointed. "Nah, nuthin'."

"_His_ luck," Action said with a smirk, pounding his fist into his open palm.

"I'll slip out back an' check the alleys again. You guys hang here," Ice instructed, clapping A-Rab on the shoulder before he darted out the back.

Baby John, who had come around to stand behind the counter, said, "Boy, I'm thirsty. Where's Doc?"

"Upstairs, raisin' getaway money fer Tony," Tiger answered, reaching into a jar for more candy.

Baby John gave a small laugh. "Doc ain't got no money!"

"His mattress has," Snowboy cracked, flicking a spoon with professional precision.

Action, having appointing himself the captain the moment Ice had ducked out of the store, stepped into his role at once. "C'mon, cut the frabbajabba! Grab some readin' matter. Play the juke. Some-a you get outside; if you see Chino or any-a them stinkin' PRs comin'—"

He was cut off, for the door opened to reveal a Puerto Rican girl adorned in flashy clothes and a black shawl—Anita. Anybodys directed a cool, cutting glare at Bernardo's girl, unable to forget that _her_ boyfriend was the one who had killed _her_ Riff. Gee-Tar whistled "_La Cucaracha_," and in the back, Mouthpiece turned on the jukebox. A mambo not unlike the one played the night before came on, and Anybodys smirked at the irony. Anita, dark eyes wide, closed the door behind her. "I'd like to see Doc," she said in a soft, breathy voice, a note of fear penetrating it.

"He ain't here," Action told her callously, striking a match and lighting his cigarette.

"Where is he?" Anita pressed, sounding much weaker than Anybodys knew she was; this was the girl who had moved in a swirl of color at the dance. This _had_ to be an act, the lying little bitch.

"He went to the bank," A-Rab said in a voice reeking of innocence. "They made a mistake in his favor."

Anybodys, who under normal circumstances would have rolled her eyes at this gibe, chuckled with the rest of the Jets. She curled her fingers in and out, popping any stiff joints should she need her fists anytime soon. Anita, starting to lose some of her patience, stepped forward. "The banks are closed at night—where _is_ he?"

"Well, you know how skinny Doc is," A-Rab said, moving away from the counter and closer to Anita as he began to invent a story. His hand came out to move with his words, brushing Anybodys as he did so. A hot, crazy feeling overtook her—was this how the Jets always felt when they were taking the mickey out of the PRs? "He slipped in t'r'u the night deposit slot."

"An' got stuck," Anybodys added seriously, sliding off her stool and standing behind A-Rab, imitating his hand gesture. "Halfway in." She repressed the urge to add, "Ain't that a cryin' shame?"

"Which indicates…there's no tellin' when he'll be _back_," Snowboy said, his voice taking on a darker tone than normal.

Action pushed himself off of the counter and faced Anita, his stance daring her to try anything. "_Buenas noches, ____senorita," _he challenged.

Anybodys watched Anita intently, half-hoping she would turn tail and leave and half-hoping she would stay so they could taunt her some more. They couldn't get on Bernardo's back for killing Riff, but they could take it out on his girl. Anita's eyes wandered to the cellar, and Anybodys knew what she was thinking at once. Action did too, apparently, because just as Anita started to move forward, his leg swung up and landed heavily on a stool. "Where ya goin'?"

Anita's eyes flickered around the store. "Downstairs," she said innocently.

Action's foot slid off the stool. "Didn't I tell ya he ain't here?"

"I'd like to see for myself," Anita said quickly, attempting to step around him. Action, A-Rab and Anybodys, all of whom were standing in her path, leaned to the side to prevent her from going any further.

_"____Pleeease__," _Action said in a slow, almost sensual voice.

Anita eyed him in barely restrained contempt as Gee-Tar and Big Deal closed in behind her. "Please," she said tightly.

Action blew a cloud of smoke into her face, causing everyone to chuckle again._ "____Por favor__?"_

"Will you let me pass?" Anita said in a valiant attempt at an indifferent voice, trying to move around him again.

Snowboy stood up abruptly, blocking her path. "She's too ___dark_ ta pass."

"Oh, ___don't,_" Anita warned him in a low voice.

_"____Please_ don't," Action corrected her, holding up a disciplinary finger as if she were a small child he was teaching.

_"____Por favor__!" _Snowboy added, positively grinning.

_"____No comprende__?" _Gee-Tar said, even his effeminate voice rich with mockery.

_"____Gracias__!" _A-Rab said, giving a flourish of the hips that was a poor imitation of the way the Sharks danced.

_"De nada_," Big Deal piped up, smirking around his gum.

_"____Ai! Ai! Hey, mambo__!" _Anybodys shouted, snapping her fingers in the air and waggling her hips in imitation of Anita's earlier dancing. She could hear Mouthpiece snapping behind her (frankly, she didn't trust that joker when he was in such close proximity to her rear) her as Baby John clapped in time to the music still floating from the jukebox.

Anita started for Anybodys, hands raised as if to grab her. Anybodys, Mouthpiece and Baby John stopped, eyeing her coolly. "Listen, you—"

"We're listenin'!" Action snarled, his gaze hard and cutting.

Peering over A-Rab's shoulder, Anybodys could see that Anita was having extreme difficulty restraining herself. "Look. I gotta give a friend of yours a message. I gotta tell Tony—"

"He ain't here," Action cut across her nastily.

Anita was all but snarling. "I ___know_ he is!"

"Who says he is?" Action countered.

"Who's the message from?" A-Rab wanted to know.

"Never mind," Anita said, trying to shrug him off, but this was the wrong response.

"Couldn't be from Chino, could it?" Action suggested, his mouth forming a nasty smirk that, though directed at Anita, gave Anybodys the creeps.

"Don't you understand—I want to ___help_!" Anita growled, speaking slowly and enunciating the English around her thick accent.

"Bernardo's girl wants to ___help_?" Anybodys repeated in false-surprise, mocking Anita's accent with jeering exaggeration.

"Even a greaseball's got feelings!" Action declared.

"But she wants ta help get Tony!" Anybodys said hotly, her eyes drifting up and down Anita in disgust and meeting Anita's coal-black eyes with her own.

"No!" Anita shouted, looking almost…pleading? No, it couldn't be…not the PR tramp…

"Not much." Action's eyes also drifted up and down Anita, but his held a different glint than Anybodys's. "Bernardo's _tramp_."

"Bernardo's pig!" A-Rab sneered, unraveling her neatly-wrapped shawl.

"Lyin' _Spic_!" Action chimed.

"Don't do that," Anita begged, gripping it fearfully. And that was when it happened. It was at that moment that Anybodys realized what that glint was in Action's eyes, when she realized why his taunts had sent shivers down her spine. Anybodys stumbled backwards, cold and numb as realization hit her. The boys surged forward to pick up the taunting, inadvertently pushing her to the back.

"Gold tooth!"

"Pierced ear!"

"Don't!"

"Garlic mouth!"

Anybodys backed into the corner between the cabinet and the cellar door, her hand gripping the corner of the cabinet nervously. Her face twisted in horror mingled with disgust as the Jets yanked off Anita's shawl, wrapping it around her waist and forcing her hips towards Action. Some of the Jets grabbed at her skirts, raising them up to reveal her flamingo pink crinolines and shouting "cha-cha-cha" as they waved them. She tried to push her skirt down, but she was fighting a losing battle. "I want to help!"

"Come on!"

"Go!"

"Hey! Hey! Chiquita!"

"No!"

"_Olé! Olé!" _

"Hey babe!"

"Come on!"

Anybodys winced as they threw Anita around using her shawl, treating her like a rag doll. Anita escaped from under her shawl, but the boys closed in around her. Gee-Tar held up the shawl, revealing the red side and waving it like a toreador. Anita hesitated before reaching for it. Gee-Tar side-stepped her and the Jets cheered, Action shoving Anita into Gee-Tar. A scream tore from her lips as she tried to flee. The boys, however, weren't having any of it. Big Deal and A-Rab grabbed her from either side, yanking her back and sending her spinning into Action.

"Oh, no ya don't!"

"Come on, baby!"

Anita's face landed on Action's mouth, and Anybodys's stomach turned as she saw him taking advantage of this opportunity. The Jets passed her from one to the other, laughing and jeering. Anita came back to Big Deal and A-Rab, and now all of the Jets pressed in on her, forcing her down to the ground and holding down her arms and legs. Gee-Tar and Mouthpiece picked up Baby John, swinging him over and preparing to drop him over Anita. Anybodys screwed her eyes shut, her breathing hard as she restrained the shriek welling up within her. Memories she had long ago repressed came surging to the surface of her mind, memories of hands groping her small body as she struggled, only to find his grip growing tighter and tighter and suffocating her even more.

"STOP IT!"

Anybodys's eyes shot open at the ringing shout. The boys froze, still looming over Anita, their leers melting into shock and even panic. And there stood Doc in the doorway, his eyes wide and face pale. In all the commotion, nobody had heard or seen him enter. He came forward slowly, incredulity scrawled all over his weathered face. "What are you doing, there?"

Slowly, abashedly, the boys let go of Anita, rising quietly and falling into a line. The girl lay there for a moment before carefully sitting up, reaching for her shawl and touching her neck as if checking for scars. She turned around with agonizing slowness, her hair and clothes tousled and her breathing ragged. "Bernardo was _right_," she managed, moving towards the door. "If one of you was _lying_ in the street, _bleeding,_ I'd walk by…and _spit on you_!" She turned to go.

"Don't let her go!" Action said at once. Anybodys gaped at him—had he heard _nothing_ Anita had just said?

"She'll tell Chino Tony's hidin' in the cellar!" A-Rab said, reaching for her.

"Don't. You. _Touch_ me," Anita hissed, whirling around and holding her fists aloft. "I gotta message for your American _buddy_," she spat. "You tell that murderer that Maria's _never_ going to meet him!" Her eyes took on a crazed look. "You tell him that Chino found out about them…and _shot_ her! She's _dead_." And she turned and fled.

Anybodys stared. Dead. Maria. _Dead_. And Tony…oh God, _Tony_. A mortified hush fell over the store. Heads fell and sharp intakes of breath could be heard. Doc shattered it by snarling, "_When_ do you kids _stop_? You make this world _lousy_."

"_We_ didn't make it, Doc," Action said quietly.

Doc eyed him in disgust. "Get outta here," he growled.

Action jerked his head and the Jets filed out after him, none of them daring to meet Doc's eyes. Anybodys watched them nervously, sickened and even afraid to be too close to any of them after…well, after _that_. She followed Baby John—Johnny, who she knew had wanted no part in that scene, Johnny who had held her while she cried after her own near-rape. Anybodys shut the door to Doc's, the last one out.


	13. One Last Vow

A/N: I kept waiting to update this fic because this week has been _impossibly_ long; chock-full of rehearsals. For the record, I am insanely happy to be back-up-dancing to the Beach Boys when I'm not Maria and feeling like a _West Side Story_ extra. Am I nerdy? Yes. Do I care? Not particularly. I do feel the need to add that we girls have given each other nicknames, and I named my friend Minnie, because she kind of reminds me of her. Kind of.

Um, anyway. Onto more important things now. The order of the chapters (up to this point, at least) was done for a specific reason; if you can guess the significance, I shall give you air cookies. It make you until the end of the chapter to figure it out, but...it had a purpose.

ENORMOUS thanks to **Vee, cookies, **and **Megfly** for the reviews last chapter, and also a thank you to a new reviewer, **TurtleMoose19**! It means so much, guys!

* * *

Anybodys didn't follow the Jets all the way into the back alley—she had no inclination to. She didn't want to be anywhere _near_ them. The only reason she even went behind the iron gate they all traipsed through was because she still had enough of her wits about her to not get caught. She shut the gate behind her, listening numbly to the conversation behind her.

"Whadda we do now?"

"Let's clear out."

"Where to?"

"You name it, as long as it's anywhere north, south, or west-a here."

"C'mon, c'mon!"

"Maybe we oughta find Ice."

"An' have him knock our heads off? No thanks."

"We don't gotta tell him!"

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Checkin' the back alleys again, ya dope!"

"Well c'mon, let's go find him!"

Anybodys didn't turn around until she had heard the last patter of tennis shoes fade. She burrowed herself into the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and shivering. She closed her eyes, willing herself to shrink until she was nothing but dust—no, less than dust. Her fleeting moment of victory over A-Rab and all the other Jets had crashed into nothing more than a memory in a matter of seconds. Anita's horrified face kept flashing across Anybodys's mind, and she gripped the fabric of her jeans tightly, trying to force the memory out of her head.

It wasn't just the fact that the Jets—_her_ Jets—had tried to rape a girl; it was mainly the fact that Anybodys had just stood there like a dope and not done anything about it. Shame welled up within her, making her feel as if her tightly coiled muscles were going to explode at any moment. As a girl, she should've tried to stop it—as a girl who had been in a similar situation, it was her _obligation_ to stop it.

So why hadn't she? Why hadn't she shoved the Jets aside (as she knew she could) and snapped at them? Why hadn't she kicked the PR girl to the curb instead of letting her get manhandled by the guys? Why hadn't she fought them tooth and nail until they let up? If Ice ever found out, he'd be _furious_, forget how impressed he had been with her spying tonight.

But then…what would have happened if Anybodys _had_ fought them? _Would_ they have stopped? The optimistic part of her (which wasn't saying much) told her yes, eventually, but the part that had long since abandoned the rose-colored glasses had a sickening feeling that she could've ended up in Anita's spot, and that thought alone was enough to make her release a dry sob.

And Maria…God, _Maria_. She hadn't thought Chino had it in him to actually kill Tony, never mind _Maria_. Chino was the kind of guy you just didn't take seriously in a fight. Of course he would have a gun—he was too much of a pansy to inflict any real damage with his own hands, so he let a cold piece of metal take out his anger on Tony. Killing Tony was understandable—killing Maria made absolutely no sense at all. Frankly, Anybodys was shocked Chino even had the _balls_ to do it.

"Chino!"

Anybodys's head snapped up. Who the _hell_ was shouting at this time of night? And…did he say _Chino_? What the _hell_?

"Chino!"

Anybodys unfurled her limbs, her feet and hands pressed against the ground, ready to push her up at a moment's notice. That voice sounded uncannily like Tony. It made no sense; Tony was supposed to be in the cellar, waiting for…

_Oh_.

It made sense now; Doc must have just told Tony about Anita's message, and now Tony was shouting for Chino, trying to get revenge. A small, brief stab of annoyance shot through the tomboy; why was life a never-ending cycle of seeking revenge for the kids of the West Side? Shaking her head, Anybodys sprang to her feet, slipping towards the gate.

"Chino! Come and get me too, Chino!"

"Tony!" she called softly, pushing open the gate.

"Who's that?" Tony demanded to know, swinging around from where he had been leaning against a car.

"It's me: Anybodys," she assured him, voice barely above a stage whisper. She motioned for him to follow her into the shadowy alley, glancing behind her; how close were the Jets to her?

"Get out of here!" he groaned, staggering drunkenly down the street. "Chino! Come and get me, damn you!"

Anybodys darted out of her hiding place and towards him, grabbing his arm. "What're ya _doin'_?!" she exclaimed, trying to tug him to safety.

"Get _out_ of here!" he barked, yanking himself out of her grasp and lurching away. "Chino!"

Anybodys grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around to face her. She wanted to fly, fly out of this dirty city and away from the Jets and the Sharks and somewhere…God, anywhere. And she would take Tony with her, help him forget Riff and Maria and the pain their passings had caused him. "Look, why don'tcha come with me, we'll find out—"

Tony gripped her arms in a bruising hold, shaking her and making her head spin fearfully. "It ain't _playin'_ anymore! Can't any of you _get_ that?!" he growled savagely, giving her a cold, hard shove away from him as he turned away.

"But the _gang_—" Anybodys shrieked, grasping at something, _anything_, to keep him here with her and away from Chino and his gun.

"You're a _girl_! Be a girl an' _beat it_!" Tony snapped, turning and running into the playground. "Chino!"

Anybodys chased after him halfheartedly for a few steps before pausing beside a car, seeing that he had lost all of his faculties. She groaned and turned around, running to the alley behind Doc's. She _had_ to find Ice now; he was the only one who could talk some sense into Tony. She pushed through the iron gate, ran until she nearly collided with the Jets gathered behind Doc's. She skidded to a halt, gasping for air. "Ice, ya gotta come…Tony's runnin' around outside…shoutin' fa Chino ta come get him…"

Ice frowned. "Why—?"

"Just come _on_!" Anybodys shouted.

A resonant and unmistakable sound rang out through the still night air—a gunshot.

A-Rab and Baby John glanced at each other before setting off, moving as if someone had lit a fire underneath them. Action tore off after them, and Anybodys lunged after Ice, hoping to God it wasn't what she thought it was.

It was.

* * *

Velma, Graziella and Minnie froze at the sound of the gunshot. Velma swore her heart stopped for more than just a few beats—Ice.

"Minnie, get inside Doc's, now!" she ordered, panicked, tearing off for the direction the noise had come from. Graziella shot after her, their heels clacking noisily against the pavement.

Minnie nodded at their retreating backs and scampered off to Doc's, her feet pattering against the pavement and her heart pounding against her ribcage. She didn't know who had shot the gun or who had been shot or even what on earth was going on, but Velma had told her to wait here, and she intended on doing just that until someone gave her new orders. That was what it meant to be a Jet Girl, really; to wait.

* * *

Anybodys felt as if her insides were evaporating as she saw Tony and Maria sink to the ground, she clutching him to her as he gasped for air like a fish out of its fishbowl. The picture didn't make sense—Maria was supposed to be _dead_…what was she doing here, with Tony wound in her arms? The blood-red of her dress gave her an eerie look, and for a fleeting moment, Anybodys wondered if it was Maria's ghost she saw, preparing to escort Tony to the afterlife.

Graziella felt her mouth part in surprise. She knew that Chino had a gun, knew that he had been looking for Tony…but she never actually thought the two would meet. She and Velma fell into place among the Jets, watching with wide eyes as Tony, draped across Maria's lap and clutching feverishly at her shoulder, was slowly drained of life. Marilyn and Nanette (who had appeared out of nowhere) ran up as Tony and Maria exchanged murmured words.

Graziella watched intently as Maria gripped Tony's hand, clutching it to her heart. Her whispers were higher-pitched and thick with tears now, and Graziella felt an ache in her breast that she inexplicably knew Maria felt, too. And just as his blood was flowing from his wound, so did Tony's life drain from his body, spilling onto the pavement.

It was a surreal moment, Graziella would later reflect—somehow, she felt connected to Maria in that moment. She could practically _feel_ the life leave Tony, feel death fill her arms. And in that moment, she truly felt that someone had suffered more than she—for what could possibly be worse than holding your lover as he died? She had not seen Riff die, had not felt the pain he must have felt when his life was taken from him. But Maria _had_ seen it, had watched Tony die and know that nothing she could possibly do would save him, and had been forced to wait until his tormented body fell quiet in her arms.

No one moved as Tony's soul left the earth. The moment it had passed into the next life, however, the boys glanced up, their eyes meeting feverishly. Ice and Action stepped forward, followed by the other Jets. Velma and Graziella, knowing what was about to come, backed up quickly, loath to get between the two gangs. But Anybodys didn't move. She remained firmly planted, her eyes never leaving Tony's inert body. In one night, she had watched her captain fall, had watched his murderer die, had joined the Jets, had realized how unforgivably inhuman they were, had been forced to relive her worst memory, had stood helplessly by as a girl almost got raped, and had watched the boy she loved die—in another girl's arms. How much more could she take before she snapped?

"**Stay back**."

Everyone halted at this command, turning to look at where it had been issued from. Maria's voice was louder and harder and colder than any of them had guessed, and they watched her in awe as she rose fluidly, her shawl falling off of her and pooling on the ground. She strode into the midst of the two gangs, right into the synapse between them, and jerked her hand out to Chino. Slowly, hesitantly, he handed her the glinting gun. She moved it over and over in her hands. "How do you fire this gun, Chino?" she asked in a low, hoarse voice. "Just by pulling this little trigger?!"

Chino took a staccato step back as she pointed the gun at him. Graziella's eyes widened in s shock; surely she wasn't going to _shoot_ him? Velma stared, equally stunned; she had thought that Maria, of _all_ people, saw how _ridiculous_ this never-ending cycle of taking an eye for an eye was—but it wouldn't be the first time she'd been wrong.

"How many bullets are left, Chino?" Maria asked, her voice quavering ever so slightly. She turned to the Sharks, waving her gun at them. "Enough for you?" They scattered. She wheeled around to face the Jets, turning the gun on them. "And you?"

The Jets took scooted several steps back, and Anybodys felt A-Rab beside her, so close she could hear his erratic breath that matched her own. Her eyes remained glued to Maria, fearful that her finger would pull the trigger.

"All of you!" Maria shouted, revolving to look at all of them. "You all killed him, and my brother, and Riff—not with bullets and guns. With _hate_! Well, I can kill too, because now _I_ have hate!" She whirled to look at Ice, holding the gun up to him and advancing slowly. "How many can I kill Chino? How many?! And still have one bullet left for me?"

No one breathed in that moment.

Velma could not force herself to move—though her very insides were trembling furiously, she was paralyzed, hoping and praying that Ice would escape death a second time that night. She became dimly aware of red lights flashing over them, casting Ice and Maria in a nightmare-like light. She watched intently, her heart racing whenever she saw Ice's cool face bathed in red. Her lungs barely expanded, almost as if they were afraid to breathe, quietly gathering a scream she knew she would release if the trigger was pulled.

She saw Maria's face scrunch up in pain, and she knew right at that moment that Ice would live. She dared to breathe again, air flooding back into her lungs as her heart tried desperately to stop its frantic rhythm.

Anybodys heard the doors of the patrol car open, but she did not dare remove her eyes from Maria—a wild part of her mind told her that as long as she looked at Ice, he would be all right. The gun fell to the ground with a noisy clatter, proceeded by Maria's cries, and Anybodys heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Her tightly-coiled muscles sprang loose; there would not be another death tonight. She felt her knees tremble and threaten to give out, but she remained standing, her relief that Ice was alive supporting her.

Graziella watched Maria fall to the ground, her anguished sobs swelling and hanging over the playground. She felt none of the pity she normally would have; instead, she felt…symbiotic. She felt that ache in her breast again, the ache she _knew _Maria felt—those cries breaking from the girl in red were echoes of her own upon Riff's demise. The only thing that stopped her from reaching out to the girl was the pain, the pain she knew Maria felt, the pain that made her shrink from human touch—the touch of a human hand paled vastly in comparison to the hand she _really_ wanted to feel, the hand belonging to someone who was no longer part of the mortal world.

Lieutenant Schrank was hardly noticed as he entered the playground—everyone's eyes were fixed on the red-clad figure pooled on the ground, her shoulders heaving with sobs and her head bent into her lap. The only person not gazing at her intently was Velma—she was watching Ice, thanking God over and over that Ice was alive. She did not have to tear at her hair and clothes as Graziella and Anita and Maria did; she did not have to bear the agony of holding his cold, limp body in her arms and staining it with tears. And for that, she was eternally grateful.

Anybodys, unable to watch Maria in all her sorrow for much longer, flickered her eyes towards Schrank, watching him quietly retrieve the gun. He approached Tony with his usual weary but determined gait, and Anybodys felt a surge of disgust. Tony had already been murdered—why couldn't Schrank keep his filthy nose stuck behind his damn rulebook and for once in his life _leave them all the fuck alone?_

Maria surprised them all as she rose to her feet fluidly, fierce determination scrawled all over her face. A growl tore from her lips. "**Don't you **_**touch**_** him!**" She ran to Tony, flinging herself over him and draping her body over his, the red of her dress mingling with his blood as she gripped his body possessively. She paused and then sat up, her hair disheveled and her eyes spilling over with tears she could not keep in check.

And to everyone's surprise, Schrank stepped back, a look of grim concession on his face. Anybodys felt the hot surge of hatred for him cool—it was ironic, really, that the first time he showed any real deference for Tony was also the last time. All the insults about drunken fathers and loose mothers and crummy homes and being hoodlums he had spat at them over the years were, in his mind, stricken out by one step backward. But life, Anybodys had often found, was not that simple, and she did not plan on forgiving Schrank that easily, not while the memory of Riff and Tony still lived on.

Graziella watched Maria with intent eyes, watching sorrowfully as Maria turned from the Sharks to the Jets, her doe eyes imploring someone, anyone, to help her. But there was no one to help, and Graziella knew that. There were only those agreeing to carry her halfway—no one was truly willing to carry her safely across. No one wanted the burden of sharing her pain—why should they, when their lighter, happier lives awaited them, careless and devoid of death?

If Schrank's acquiescence to Maria had been a surprise, it was an absolute shock when Action stepped forward, his eyes on Maria and his expression, for possibly the first time in his life, devoid of any hatred. Before the initial shock had time to register with Anybodys, she felt A-Rab brush past her, moving to help, too. Tiger also came forward, and the three boys waited, side by side, to carry Tony away from his deathbed of cement and dirt. The three boys blocked Maria from view, and it was as if a curtain had been drawn, shielding Maria as she bid her final farewell to her lover.

Anybodys watched in awe as the three boys knelt carefully around Tony, making sure to leave Maria untouched. Was it possible that these boys who were handling a dead corpse so tenderly had been the same boys to throw around a grief-stricken girl without mercy earlier tonight? She wouldn't have believed it if not for the fact that she had seen both happen. Tony's arm fell loose and two Sharks hurried forward to grab it. There was a pause as the Jets and Sharks looked at each other, and then they gathered up Tony's body, bearing him away together.

Graziella's eyes flickered from the pallbearers to Maria, her gaze settling on the girl. Maria was still kneeling, looking positively empty without Tony at her side. Graziella faintly registered that Baby John had stepped forward—she didn't seem to take any note of him until she realized that he was draping Maria's black shawl over her head, a silent benediction.

Velma could not take much more of the slow and agonizing mourning around her. It was surrounding her, suffocating her, and she needed out, needed to pass through the chain-link fence and return to the streets. And so she moved past Graziella and Ice, not daring to meet their eyes. There would be time for talking later—now, she needed out.

Anybodys followed after Baby John, pausing to cast one more sympathetic look at Maria before holding her elbow meekly and leaving the playground. She fell into step beside a Shark girl; their eyes met for a brief moment before dropping back to the ground. Anybodys kept her head bowed, ignoring the gaping bystanders as she passed. She'd always wanted for people on the street to stare at her in awe…it seemed tonight was full of contradictions.

Graziella stared, surprised, as Velma walked away from the playground, never looking back. Graziella did not follow; she couldn't leave Maria. The more rational part of her said that Maria, as wrapped up in her sorrow as she was, probably didn't even notice her. But then, how was anything that had happened tonight _rational_? Nothing made sense, and no one expected it to start anytime soon.

Maria turned her head, her grief-stricken eyes staring ahead. Slowly, she rose, covering her heart with her shawl and pressing it tightly to her, as if to smother the aching fire in her heart. She walked forward slowly, her steps careful and somber. Graziella dropped her eyes as Maria passed, her head held high—it reminded Graziella of the paintings of saints-to-be walking to their deaths. Her red dress only added to her appearance as a martyr, and Graziella found herself in awe.

She stood, motionless, as the Jets and Sharks sank back into the darkness in ones and twos. The red light from the patrol car flashed over and over, as if to remind anyone who remained that blood had been spilt here, that a boy who was not yet a man had died in his lover's arms here. The reminder proved too much for those who had seen it, for they all turned and left.

Ice turned and touched Graziella's arm. "C'mon," he murmured in a soft and broken voice. "Let's get outta here."

She followed him obediently, allowing him to guide her as a shepherd would one of his sheep. She disappeared into the night like all the other teenagers of the West Side, mourning for one death out of many in an endless cycle of boys pretending to be men, fighting the suffocation of this dirty, miserable city.


	14. Somehow

A/N: We are now officially past the end of the movie, and I admit that I'm quite uncertain about the rest of the fic. It was easier to write based off of the movie because there were events to base things off of and situations to react to; since I'm fortunate enough to not have dealt with the death of a close friend (not yet, at least; knock on wood), I am really uncertain of how to accurately write the girls here. So I apologize if anything seems off or awkward to you; it's very hard to put myself in their shoes in this situation.

Also, I have to give major, major props to **Vee**, who wrote almost the entire Pauline section here (you can tell where I stopped and she started due to the shift to considerably better quality writing). It made me very wibbly, and I hope it wibbles you too. Because that didn't sound odd at all, nope.

Another note: Nanette and Marilyn make an appearance at the end of the movie, where they have for some reason stolen Minnie and Bernice's outfits, those Betas. Nanette has the freaky space-helmet-hairdo. Marilyn is the one who, well, does not. Just to clarify. I have mentioned this before, but we ADHD children repeat things. Frequently. Apparently.

Um, so, the very sincerest thanks to **Vee, cookies,** and **Meg** for their beautiful reviews; they make my day!

* * *

Minnie jumped to her feet as Velma wearily pushed open the door to Doc's. The younger girl had been wringing her hands, sitting rigidly in a chair, and her eyes were wide with fear as she looked at Velma.

"Tony's dead," Velma said in a hollow voice, feeling exhausted. "Chino shot him."

Minnie's face was blank for a moment as this registered with her. And suddenly it crashed as the realization hit her. "D-dead?" she asked, the tears already streaming. At Velma's nod, she let out a sob, sinking back into her chair. Velma dropped into the chair beside her and Minnie flung herself on her, burying her head in Velma's shoulder and wrapping her arms around Velma's neck. Velma closed her eyes, holding Minnie tight to her and rubbing her back. It was her lot in life, she supposed, to console the bereaved.

* * *

Anybodys cast a miserable eye at the clock. One o'clock. It had been one hour since Tony's death, one hour since life for the kids of the West Side had taken an incontrovertible change that none of them could deny. She dropped her forehead back into her hand, closing her tired eyes.

She'd followed the makeshift procession after leaving the playground, finding an odd sort of solace beside the Shark girl. She didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her except that she was an admittedly pretty Shark girl. They never spoke, never even looked at each other for longer than a second…and yet, they were united. It was an oddly comforting sort of camaraderie.

A sob came from the back, and Anybodys felt her eyeball twitch. She had come in here not long after everyone had dispersed, when Minnie and Velma were the only two in the store. People had come in and out, and now she was stuck with Nanette, who was sobbing hysterically in the back, and Marilyn, who was trying to comfort her. The thing that annoyed her most about the two girls was that technically, they weren't even Jet Girls; they were the Betas who thought that making out in the movies or sleeping with a Jet meant you were one of their girls. It wasn't that simple. As it was, they used these girls only when dates were needed, or when they had nothing better to do.

Nanette was one of those girls who only further influenced Anybodys's decision to avoid all things feminine. Nanette's story wasn't an unusual one; girl falls for boy, boy fools around with girl, boy leaves girl, girl becomes miserable. Unfortunately, she felt the need to broadcast her misery to everyone in Manhattan; as if she weren't annoying enough to begin with. Marilyn wasn't even all that bad, but the fact that she was best friends with Nanette and actually _liked_ the chick gave her automatic demerits in Anybodys's mind.

"I-I j-just d-don't understand w-why this h-had ta happen!" Nanette wailed, not even bothering to try and stop the tears. "I knew they w-was f-f-fightin', b-but I d-didn't know they w-would b-be _killin'_ each other!"

Anybodys bit back a retort.

"Shh, shh," Marilyn soothed, but it was no use.

"A-an' that P-Puerto Rican g-girl, w-what the hell w-was h-her d-deal?" Nanette continued, blowing her nose loudly.

Anybodys turned around on her stool slowly, her expression one of disbelief. "Will you _shut the_ _fuck up_?"

Nanette stopped crying abruptly, and she and Marilyn turned to gawk at Anybodys. "W-what?" Nanette finally asked.

Anybodys slid off the stool, the roiling hate and anger that had been simmering in her now rising to a maddening bubbling. "Do ya even know what _happened_ tonight? Didja know _anything_ about the rumble or Riff or Bernardo or Tony an' Maria before an hour ago?"

Nanette blinked.

Marilyn scowled. "A-course we did! _Everyone_ knew about the rumble tonight; why else ya think we was lookin' fa the guys?"

Anybodys shook her head, disgusted. "Ya don't get it, do ya?" she said rather than asked, forcing her voice not to shake. "It wasn't just a rumble…Riff an' Bernardo…do ya even know what happened? _Do_ ya?" she persisted, her voice taking on an almost hysterical edge.

Marilyn glared at her resentfully but sagely said nothing in response to this.

Nanette, on the other hand, demonstrated her lack of capacity to be a Jet Girl by opening her mouth when she should have left it shut. "It ain't _our_ fault we wasn't there an' no one told us about it 'til just now," Nanette snapped, glaring. "It ain't like we _tried_ not ta know anything!"

"Will you just _shut up_, ya dumb cow?!" Anybodys shrieked.

Nanette gasped, stunned, but mercifully fell silent.

Anybodys clenched her fists, trying not to think about how much Nanette's would-be "innocent" face irked her at the moment. "Do ya even know who the hell that girl shoutin' over Tony's body was? No, a-course ya don't. Her name's Maria. Her brother was Bernardo. She an' Tony were in love with each other." She paused here, taking a deep breath; it hurt to think about Tony loving another girl. She would admit that to herself now. "She's the reason fa the rumble. Bernardo saw her with Tony at the dance an' wanted ta fight him. Tony tried ta stop it, but things got outta hand…Bernardo killed Riff, an' Tony killed Bernardo."

Marilyn let out a small gasp, and Nanette continued staring at Anybodys as if she'd grown three extra heads.

Anybodys continued, ignoring Nanette's face. "Chino was Bernardo's best friend, an' he was s'posed ta get married ta Maria. He went aftah Tony an' tried ta kill him. We hid him fer as long as we could, but…" She bit her lip, uncertain of how to avoid saying what happened next. "Tony kinda…lost it," she said, skittering around the subject. "He went to the playground an' Chino shot him."

There was a long pause in which Anybodys concentrated very hard on her scuffed-up shoes, trying not to think about the burning sensation behind her eyes. And then Nanette shattered the silence. "How the hell d'_you_ know all this?" she demanded to know.

Anybodys's head snapped up, her blue eyes flashing; it was then that she remembered she hated Nanette with a fiery intensity that, were the other girl aware of it, would make her shrink away at the very mention of Anybodys. The smaller girl clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "Because _I_ was _helpin'_ the guys tonight. Instead-a, y'know, tryin' ta find A-Rab an' throw myself at him again."

Nanette let out an enraged screech, stomping her foot angrily. "Don't you talk ta me like that, you little freak!"

Anybodys sneered. "Like he's ever gonna want you."

Nanette appraised her coolly. "Like Riff an' Tony ever wanted _you_?"

Something in Anybodys snapped. Before Nanette had time to react, Anybodys let out a shout and lunged at her, her bony fingers twisting themselves in Nanette's stiff-as-a-plank hairdo as she shook the girl's head violently. Nanette screamed and, upon realizing she could not exactly return the gesture on Anybodys's short hair, dug her fingernails into the smaller girl's arms, causing Anybodys to hiss in pain. This did not, however, deter the tomboy; if anything, it only further incensed her. Fingers still in Nanette's space-helmet-hairdo, Anybodys hurled the girl towards the wall, causing Nanette to whimper and crumple to the floor.

"Anybodys, don't!" Marilyn protested, relieved to see that Nanette was still conscious.

But Anybodys was already looming over Nanette, attacking her with the ferocity of a starving lioness. She hit and kicked and pushed and pulled and punched and spat, and all the while, Nanette shrieked like a wild banshee, throwing up her arms to try and defend herself. "Help!" she wailed. Anybodys didn't stop—she couldn't. Something feral in her had risen at Nanette's words; the blood pounded loudly in her ears as she throttled Nanette, imagining Chino—stupid, effeminate, surprisingly murderous Chino—in her place. And suddenly, it was more than just retaliating over an insult—it was for Riff, for Tony.

Anybodys felt a strong pair of hands prising her off Nanette—hands she was almost positive could not belong to Marilyn. The hands finally yanked her off entirely and she was shoved away from Nanette. Anybodys spun around to see A-Rab's shocked face. "Anybodys, what the hell?!"

Nanette, still covering her head, wailed, "This, this _bitch_ just _attacked_ me outta _nowhere_!"

Anybodys, chest heaving and heart still pounding from her attack, scoffed and turned away.

"Hey, Anybodys!"

Anybodys pointedly ignored A-Rab, shoving through the door and descending the stairs quickly. She gulped down the cool air outside as a man who had been stranded in the desert might finally sate his thirst. She was dangerously close to losing it, and hanging around Nanette was not helping matters in the slightest. She heard the door open and her heart began to sink as she realized she was not going to be able to simply walk away.

"Anybodys, hey!" A-Rab jogged up and grabbed her wrist. "What was all _that_?"

Anybodys shook him off, eyeing him coolly. "Don't touch me." Her voice was low and hard, and she started to move away again.

A-Rab stared at her, confused, as he grabbed her wrist again. "Anybodys, what—"

Anybodys tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he would not let go. "I _said_, don't _touch_ me!"

"Why _not_?" A-Rab wanted to know, trying to wrestle her into holding still. "I ain't gonna hurt ya…"

Without thinking, Anybodys grunted, "Yes you will!" Realizing what had slipped out, she froze in the midst of trying to escape from A-Rab.

A-Rab stared at her, his brow knitting as he dropped her wrist. "What?"

Anybodys took a step back, rubbing her wrist. How the hell was she supposed to tell A-Rab that she was terrified of him—along with all the other Jets—after the incident with Anita? "Aw, go back inside," she snapped. "Ya couldn't get yer jollies from Anita, but I'm sure Nanette is _more_ than willin' fer ya ta pin _her_ down."

A-Rab blinked at her acidic tone. "Is _that_ why yer about ta bite my head off?"

Anybodys made an incredulous snort. "Well, lemme think. Girl's boyfriend got killed, an' you idiots pushed her around an' tried ta rape her. So fahgive me if I don't wanna hold ya hand an' sing a friendship song." She turned away from A-Rab, starting to move away from him.

"Well…you was goin' right along with it at the beginnin'," A-Rab said helplessly.

Anybodys wheeled around and gave him a sound punch to the face. "Don't you _dare_ try an' pin the blame on me! I never woulda done it if I knew what you creeps was gonna do!" she all but screamed. "Kickin' her to the coib just wasn't good enough, was it? Ya had ta…" She could not finish; instead, she turned away again and buried her face in her hands, choking on sobs she valiantly tried to restrain.

A-Rab rubbed his cheek, staring at her dumbly. It was starting to make sense now—unfortunately, he didn't like the sudden clarity. "I…look, I'm real sorry—"

Anybodys whirled around again and fixed him with an incredulous glare that silenced him at once. "Don't say it when ya don't mean it. If ya'd really been sorry, ya wouldna did…well, what ya did."

A-Rab ran a hand through his hair. "Anybodys…I wasn't thinkin', none of us were…we were just so _mad_…"

Anybodys snorted, the sound coming loud and harsh. "So what, the next time I piss ya off, are ya gonna pin _me_ on the floor?"

A-Rab blanched. "A-course not!" he said hotly. "I ain't that low!"

"Ya ain't?" Anybodys deadpanned. When A-Rab could not form a response to this, she said, "Don't touch me. Don't talk ta me. Hell, don't even _look_ at me. Dig?" And before he could protest, she slunk off into the shadows, disappearing completely.

A-Rab stumbled back a step, almost as if she had struck him again. It felt like she had; Anybodys seemed to truly hate him. And that, A-Rab thought miserably, bothered him even more than Anita's tearstained face as she told them she would spit on their bleeding corpses.

* * *

It felt like hours later when they heard someone at Clarice's window. Clarice, who had fallen asleep on Bernice's bed, resting her head in her lap, sat up and unconsciously patted her hair before she got to her feet and scurried to her window, throwing it open. Her face felt tight from dried tears and her eyes were bleary. Bernice followed her, watching Big Deal clamber in, his chest heaving. He fell into Clarice's arms, holding her tight as if hoping to meld his body to hers.

"I'll just be goin'," Bernice murmured, sensing that they wanted—no, needed—some privacy.

"No, stay," Big Deal said to both of the girls' surprise. "You need ta hear this too." He loosened his grip on Clarice. "Tony's dead too." His voice cracked and he looked down. "Chino found him an' shot him."

The two girls were silent for a moment. Then Clarice sat down heavily on her bed. "_Dio mio_," she murmured, crossing herself.

Bernice swayed on the spot but mercifully remained standing.

Big Deal collapsed on the ground at Clarice's feet, dropping his head into her skirted lap and closing his eyes. She stroked his head as tenderly as if he was a child, and Bernice felt as if she was intruding on something very private. She motioned to Clarice to get her attention. "I'm goin' ta Graziella's," she said in a low voice. "I'll make sure ma an' dad leave ya alone."

Clarice nodded, mouthing "thank you" as Bernice padded to the door and locked it behind her as she left. She turned her attention back to Big Deal, her heart nearly breaking at the sight of him looking so lost. "Frankie," she whispered.

He looked up at her, his eyes hard. Without warning, he moved to kiss her, nearly bending her backwards as he did so. Clarice gripped him tightly, wanting to keep him with her always. They fell back on the bed, holding each other as if there was no tomorrow and becoming lost in a blend of kisses and tears.

* * *

Pauline glanced up from where she had been lounging languorously on her bed. "That was a long rumble," she commented, toying with the hem of her babydoll as Action finished clambering through her window. Rumbles, as far as she could remember, never lasted that long; something was up.

Action stared at her unseeingly for a moment. Pauline was starting to grow concerned; normally, he'd fairly leap at the chance to ravage her senseless, especially when she was thusly attired—most guys did, and that was something she prided herself on. Tonight, however, he was pale and trembling and it made her nervous. How had the guy who was spitting sparks earlier turned into _this_ clammy mess? "Action?" she prodded.

Action seemed to come to himself and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Riff an' Tony are dead. So's Bernardo."

Pauline sat straight up, her usual aplomb abandoning her. "What?"

Action swallowed. "Tony messed up the one-on-one deal…Riff an' Bernardo got into it. Bernardo killed him, an' then Tony killed Bernardo. An' then Chino went an' got a gun an' found Tony an' shot him." There was a pause. "He's dead. They're all dead."

Pauline stared at him; that part made sense, but she wasn't sure about Action's temperament right now. She'd never seen him in this state before and wasn't entirely certain of how to handle it. "Action," she said, her voice catching and sounding hushed.

Action looked up at her and, with a hard, blazing look, stalked to her bed. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and knocked their mouths together, shoving his tongue down her throat. Pauline, miraculously, was not surprised—she had learned not to be with Action. Instead, she allowed him to push her onto her back and tear their clothes off—it was always easier to let him take the lead. Still, he was going far harder than she would've thought of a guy who had gone through three murders in one night, especially when two of them were men he had looked up to and trusted, even considered friends.

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "For someone whose buddies just died, ya sure like it rough," she commented. It wasn't like she minded, or that she was surprised by it. She hadn't said it to be mean, either; Pauline was just the kind of girl who said it straight, told it like it was. And she wasn't sure, but she suspected that Action—who, true to his name and unlike most of the Jets, was all action and no talk in bed—preferred it that way.

"Shut it," growled Action, his hot breath burning her throat as he pressed harder against her body, as if he could escape even death by finding another kind of oblivion in her arms.

Pauline shrugged, ignoring the way his face was twisting and shuddering just like his body. She did care about him a little bit, after all, and if for once he was asking for something a little more than physical from her, well...she'd always said she'd do anything in bed. And she would. Even if it was hold a boy who really and truly needed her tonight, when the world was turned on its head and nothing would be the same come daylight.

So she did what he said, kept her mouth shut and moved her hips, brought him closer and closer, helped him in the only way she knew how—the only way he would accept from her.

Action made a noise halfway between a groan and a whimper and then both face and body collapsed on top of her. "Oh, God," he breathed raggedly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Oh, God."

Oh, Riff, they both knew he meant. Oh, Tony.

After a few minutes of silence, Action raised himself to his elbows, didn't look at her. "You up for another round?"

Pauline nodded, even though he wouldn't see her. "I'm all yours tonight," she said seriously, and Action darted a quick, feverish glance at her.

"Yeah?" he asked roughly, trying to play it off as he always did as he began to move once more. "You better mean it when you say that."

And Pauline, looking up at the agitated, tormented boy above her with something less than love but more than lust, nodded. "I do."

* * *

"What were you _thinking_, Miriam?!" George bellowed. "Letting her out on a night like this! Three kids are dead, Miriam! _Three!_ And she was with them! What if it had been Minnie, Miriam, what then?!"

"I'm so sorry, George," Miriam was sobbing. "I didn't think…I didn't know. It was just supposed to be a fight, George, and then the boys would come back to celebrate. I didn't know…nobody did…"

Minnie gripped her pillow harder, shaking as the pillowcase darkened with her tears. Her father hadn't even bothered yelling at her; he had sent her to her room and told her she wasn't leaving for the next five years. It was all her fault that her mother was crying now and her father was furious.

"Psst…Minnie!"

Minnie jerked and looked around her dark room wildly. She realized the voice had come from the window and remembered that she had not closed it after sneaking out earlier. She looked over to see a figure peering in at her. She gasped, sitting up straight and swiping at her tears. "Johnny!"

He smiled shyly at her. "Hi, Minnie," he said softly.

Minnie slid off the bed and ran to the window, kneeling on the seat. "Johnny, what are you doing here? Daddy would be furious if he knew!" she whispered frantically.

"I just came ta make sure yer okay," he whispered back.

"I'm all right," Minnie assured him. "Daddy's livid with me for sneaking out, but I knew he would be."

Baby John looked surprised. "You snuck out?"

Minnie blushed. "Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

They both smiled at this.

"So…are ya in trouble?" Baby John asked after a moment.

Minnie shrugged. "I think so. I don't really know, though. I think Daddy's just glad I'm okay."

Baby John paused. "Think it'd hurt if ya snuck out again?"

Minnie furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, Johnny?"

Baby John fidgeted with his jacket. "It's only just…I don't really wanna be alone tonight. And I don't really wanna be around the guys, either; not tonight. I was thinkin'…maybe we could go ta the Park, take a walk?"

Minnie considered this. Normally, she would've said she couldn't possibly, her father would never let her. But tonight, things were different. She didn't want to be alone either; she didn't want to be locked in her dark room like the bewitched princess and wonder. She wanted to be with another human being tonight, someone who had been there and understood. She smiled at him. "Yes."

Baby John beamed and held out a hand. She took it at once, letting him help her climb out of the window and onto the fire escape. Hands linked and fingers threaded through one another's, they climbed down and dropped onto the ground. Without a backward glance, they ran, feet skimming the wet cement as they flew with one another.


	15. Someday

A/N: I would just like to preface this chapter with the note that certain parts of this fic have undergone major revision, and to avoid confusion in the future, I would strongly advise rereading it. **Vee** and I have pretty well revamped Clarice's character (which I have never been wholly satisfied with), and I like her much more now and hope you will too. In any case, nearly all the parts featuring Clarice have been edited, so you might want to go look those over so you won't be lost when read something later. There's nothing major in this chapter, but I can promise there will be in future chapters.

On a less important note, yes, I have changed my penname; I like the new one much better. In any case, it's still **LC** writing and not one of the many plagiarists out there.

My sincerest thanks to **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies** for reviewing, and major thanks to **Vee** for helping me revamp Clarice. You're the best, girlie :)

* * *

The door to Doc's burst open, causing Velma and Pauline to look up in surprise. Bernice leaned her back against the door, catching her breath. "Hey," she breathed.

Velma nodded at the twins. "Hey. Where ya been?"

"Escaping Schrank," Clarice sighed, dropping into a chair by her friend. "You?"

"Hidin' out from the cops," Pauline answered, filing her nails.

"I just came from Graziella's place," Velma said quietly, fiddling with the ID bracelet Ice had given her some time ago.

"How is she?" Clarice asked in a hushed tone, as if they were speaking of the dead. They might as well have been.

Velma sighed and shook her head. "_Horrible_. I didn't wanna leave her, so I was glad when Minnie showed up. She hasn't stopped cryin' all mornin'; she got so worked up she got sick a few times. She won't eat or anything; she just laid on her bed an' cried."

The girls fell into a hushed, reverent silence. After a long moment, Bernice cleared her throat. "So…what're we tellin' the cops in case they _do_ pick us up?"

"The truth, ain't we?" Velma said, somewhat surprised at this question. "Why should we lie?"

"Won't we get in trouble fa knowin' about two murders an' not reportin' them to the police?" Clarice asked practically. "I mean, ain't there a law against that or somethin'?"

"Gee whiz," Velma breathed; she'd never, ever dealt with anything like this on the East Side. "What about the guys?" she asked, thinking worriedly of Ice.

"They'll be fine," Pauline said with a careless wave of her hand. "They always are."

There was a noise at the back of the store; the girls looked up and saw Anybodys stumble in through the backdoor. "Hi," she gasped, breathing hard. "Any-a yas seen Ice?"

Velma eyed the younger girl suspiciously. "Not since early this mornin'. Why?"

Anybodys sighed in frustration. "It's kinda poisonal," she said, glancing around the store as if hoping he would pop out from behind something.

Bernice scoffed. "If yer askin' ta be a Jet again, I doubt he—"

"I ain't, ya stupid cow," Anybodys spat. "It's about somethin' that happened in here last night, an' that's all I'm gonna say about it—"

"Is it how ya lit inta Nanette last night?" Pauline spoke up, looking like a snake who had just cornered a mouse.

Anybodys's face drained. "How didja know…?"

"Oh, she told me all about it, a-course," Pauline said in a light, unconcerned tone. "Mentioned how ya freaked out an' positively clawed her. I hafta hand it to ya, Anybodys, that was pretty decent-a ya, rippin' up a Beta an' all."

"It ain't that," Anybodys said, now flushing slightly. "Although he's probably gonna find out sooner or later…" She shook her head. "Never mind. Look, if ya see him, tell him I'm lookin' for him." She hesitated on her way out the door. "Ya ain't…ya ain't hoid from any-a the Sharks yet, have ya?"

The girls exchanged glances.

"Well, no; should we have?" Clarice asked.

Velma, seeing the uncomfortable look in Anybodys's eyes, said, "Ya wanna tell us what's makin' ya so jumpy, Anybodys?"

"Not really, no," Anybodys said bluntly. "The Jets're gonna kill me as it is, an' if I tell their _girls_…" She shook her head again. "No sir, I ain't that stupid."

The curiosity of all four girls was most definitely piqued now. They glanced at each other, almost telepathically developing a plan to get the information out of Anybodys. As if rehearsed, Bernice turned to Anybodys. "Why don'tcha tell us, Anybodys? Maybe we can protect ya from the Jets, if it's as bad as ya say it is."

Anybodys snorted. "Thanks, but I don't need a bunch-a hens ta defend _me_."

Bernice looked annoyed, but Clarice jabbed her to keep her silent. The other girl turned to Anybodys, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Well, we're gonna find out sooner or later, y'know, an' knowin' the Jets, well…we'd really rather hear it from _you_."

The girls waited with bated breath as Anybodys seriously contemplated this. She fiddled with the frayed hem of her shirt. "Well…I mean…ya ain't gonna like it or anythin'," she muttered.

Velma, Bernice and Pauline all threw Clarice commendatory looks before turning to Anybodys, eager to hear what she was so reluctant to tell them. Velma moved to sit at a stool near where Anybodys was standing, patting the stool beside her. "You can tell us, Anybodys."

Anybodys eased into the stool, sitting rigidly and fiddling madly with a loose thread of her shirt that Velma was dying to cut off. She took a deep, shaky breath. "Well…y'know how last night, we, we was all lookin' fa Tony?"

"Of course," Velma said, watching Anybodys intently.

Anybodys bit her lip. "Well, I found him in PR territory…I guess he just came from Maria's place. We hid him in the cellah here, an' all-a the guys came here ta wait fa…well, I dunno what we was waitin' fer, actually." She took another deep, quivering breath. "Well, Ice went ta go check the back alleys fa Chino, an' then Anita came in."

"Anita…Bernardo's girl?" Bernice asked.

"Yeah. Her." Anybodys hesitated, and she looked so upset that Velma was seriously starting to worry about her. "She…she wanted ta see Doc, only he was upstairs gettin' money fa Tony, an' we thought she was spyin' fa Chino, so we…" She swallowed. "We kinda started makin' fun-a her, speakin' Spanish to her an' that kinda stuff. Only…only the guys started pushin' her around, an'…" Her voice cracked and the girls could tell at once that something had upset Anybodys, badly.

"An' what, Anybodys?" Clarice asked softly.

To their horror, the tomboy promptly burst into tears. "They kept throwin' up her skoit an' tryin' ta kiss her," she wailed through the hands spread over her face, fighting hard to keep herself under control. Her efforts were mostly in vain. "An' then they," she choked, "an' then they pinned her down an'," a sob, "an' Mouthpiece an' Gee-Tar picked up Baby John an' tried ta drop him on her." This proved to be too much; her shoulders racked with the violence of her tears.

Clarice sat frozen, gaping at Anybodys. Surely, surely not _all_ of the Jets…?

Velma, who had been staring at Anybodys as if she were an omen of death, tentatively reached out and touched the girl's shoulder. "Did they rape her, Anybodys?" she breathed.

Anybodys gulped down a few deep, tear-dampened breaths. Wiping her face brusquely with her sleeve, she sniffed, "Doc came in 'fore they could do anything else."

Bernice released an enormous sigh of relief. Clarice, on the other hand, remained sitting rigidly in her seat. "An'…an' yer sure _all_ the boys were doin' this, Anybodys?"

Anybodys looked at her with something akin to pity. "All of 'em 'cept Ice an' Baby John."

Clarice turned away and pressed a curled finger to her lips as if restraining something.

Anybodys wiped her face again and heaved an enormous sniff. "The guys're gonna kill me," she lamented dully.

Clarice suddenly whipped around and stood up, surprising Bernice and Pauline as she nearly upset a chair. "Oh, no they're not," she said with a cool determination. "We'll defend ya, Anybodys; they have no _right_…" she trailed off and took a deep breath. "We won't let 'em, Anybodys."

The door opened then, and Ice strode through, his eyebrows rising slightly at the odd assortment. Velma immediately hopped off her stool and grabbed Anybodys's arm, pushing her to stand in front of Ice. "Ice, Anybodys has somethin' ta tell ya. It's real important."

Clarice, Bernice, and Pauline glanced at each other. Clarice cleared her throat. "Um, we'll just be goin'."

"What?" Bernice asked. "Oh! I mean, uh, yeah, we gotta go."

The twins and Pauline hightailed it out of there, unwilling to face Ice when Anybodys told him what had happened last night. Ice raised his eyebrows and shrugged, turning back to Anybodys. "Yeah?"

Anybodys took a deep, shaky breath, looking determinedly down at her hands. "Well…y'know how last night, ya left ta check the back alleys again?"

Ice slowly folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Lemme guess; Action pulled somethin'?"

Anybodys winced. "Well…sorta. I…right after ya left, Anita came in." She swallowed. "Bernardo's girl."

Ice's eyes widened; this was news to him. "Oh?"

Anybodys took a deep breath. "We…we thought she was, y'know, spyin' fa Chino or somethin'. An' she wouldn't tell us what she wanted; she just kept tryin' ta push t'r'u ta the cellar. So we, well, we kinda started speakin' Spanish to her an' kinda messin' with her, only, only I didn't think anything else was gonna _happen_."

Ice's mood perceptibly darkened. "What _happened_, Anybodys?"

Anybodys swallowed, rubbing her wrist. "They…the guys started pushin' her around. Grabbing her skoit. Throwin' her ta each other, that kinda thing." She took a deep, shuddering breath, still not meeting his eyes. "An' then they, they pinned her down on the floor, an' Mouthpiece an' Gee-Tar grabbed up Baby John an' tried ta drop him on Anita, but Doc came in an' stopped 'em." Her voice cracked and she swallowed again, fighting hard not to break down again.

Ice stared at her dirty red head for a moment. Then, his voice a hoarse growl, he said, "An' you _let _'em?"

Anybodys's head jerked up, her pale face twisted on confusion. "What?"

Ice gazed at her levelly, coolly. "They was pushin' around an', from what I can tell, tryin' ta rape a girl…an' you let 'em. Anyone else it wouldn't surprise me, but another girl lettin' that happen?"

Anybodys blanched. This very thought had been rolling over and over in her mind ever since she had sulked out of Doc's that night. It was easier to deny it when no one else commented on it, but now that Ice had dragged it into the open, she knew that she was a horrible, slimy excuse for a human being. She was no better than her drunkard father or her streetwalking sister…no, she was lower than that.

Much to both Ice and Anybodys's surprise, Velma immediately stepped forward and put her arm around the younger girl. "Ice," Velma said warningly. "She couldn'a done anything, you know that. Those boys woulda just pushed her away…or done the same thing ta her."

Anybodys stared at the blonde. Velma had never exactly been mean to Anybodys—certainly not on the level Graziella had—but she had certainly never done anything _for_ the younger girl before.

Ice stared at the two girls for a moment, awed that they could actually be _united_ together. Well, perhaps not united…they were more…comfortable with each other, something no one had ever thought would happen. After a moment, he gave a small shrug and jerk of the head. "Okay," he conceded, nodding slowly. Seeing that Anybodys was still watching him warily, looking ready to bolt, he released a breath. "Thanks fer tellin' me, Anybodys. I'm glad ya did."

Anybodys, seeing that Ice was _not_ about to throttle her, relaxed. "Yeah, well, yer the leader now, ain'tcha? Figured ya wanna know this kinda stuff."

Velma started a little in surprise; she kept forgetting that as Riff's third-in-command, Ice had come into the role of captain now. He would be the one to keep the Jets in line and give them orders from now on. And where did that leave her? Graziella had long been acknowledged as the Queen Bee, and she was still around, even if her boyfriend wasn't; would Velma replace her, or would Graziella still have power over the Jet Girls? Velma had never considered an alternative to Graziella, and she had certainly never considered _herself_ as that alternative.

Ice heaved a sigh. "I do, even if I don't like hearin' it." He patted Anybodys on the shoulder. "Go on home, Anybodys; I gotta talk to the guys."

Anybodys nodded and slipped out the back of the store, sighing in relief as she did so. The hardest part was over; now she just had to hope no one figured out she was the one to tell Ice.

* * *

When Clarice, Bernice, and Pauline spilled out of Doc's, someone down the street called, "Hey!"

They looked up and saw the Jets moving towards them, some darting in to join the throng from across the street or side alleys. Big Deal was in the head of the group, and it was he who had called out to them; he jogged forward a few steps, presumably to speak to Clarice. Clarice, however, appeared less than pleased with this development. Setting her jaw grimly, she stalked towards him, her anger quickening her pace. Bernice and Pauline exchanged glances.

"I ain't never seen ya sistah get woiked up before; it's kinda scary," Pauline admitted, watching Clarice.

"You have no idea," Bernice muttered.

Seeing that Clarice was making a beeline for him, Big Deal opened up his arms a little, ready to receive her. What he was not ready for, however, was Clarice reeling back her arm and then sending it flying, open-palmed, into his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?!" she asked, her voice a furious, shaking snarl. "Why did you _do_ it?!" she screeched the last part, trembling and fighting to hold back her tears. All her composure had fled her, and the Jets stared at her. She took a few hard, wheezy breaths. "How could you _do_ that ta her? How could _any_ of ya?!" she looked at all of them now, livid beyond belief.

The boys looked down at their shuffling feet, unwilling to meet her hard stare. She whirled back on Big Deal, poking her finger in his chest. "I let ya…oh, God, I let you touch me!" she hissed, her voice dropping so that only Big Deal could hear her. "I held ya an' tried ta _comfort_ you! You sick…you disgusting…" She could not find a single word in her vocabulary to describe him. Instead, she released a dry sob and turned on her heel, running back to the other girls. Bernice immediately put her arms around her sister, giving Big Deal a dirty look.

The door to Doc's opened and Velma, brow furrowed in surprise, slowly joined the girls. Ice stepped out right behind her, looking at the Jets with an expression that stopped the chatter at once. He jerked his head at the Jets—and they all filed into Doc's at once, eyes wide and heads down. As soon as the door closed, Velma turned to the girls. "What's goin' on…?"

"Clarice just let Big Deal have it," Pauline said, a faintly perceptible note of glee detectable in her voice.

Bernice shot her an annoyed glance. "Clarice informed Big Deal that she thought his actions last night were piggish in a verbal way." She paused. "An' a physical way."

Velma's eyes widened. "You _what_?"

"Don't tell me you wouldna done the same!" Clarice snapped, a little edgy after that brief encounter with her boyfriend—if he could even be termed that anymore.

"Well, if I was in yer situation, yeah, I woulda," Velma agreed, shifting uncomfortably; she knew that Ice would never, _ever_ do anything like that, and she could only imagine how hurt and betrayed Clarice must have felt. She cleared her throat. "Look, maybe we all oughta go distract Graziella or somethin'."

"She'd like that," Bernice agreed.

"An' relieve Minnie from tissue duty," Pauline added, lighting up a cigarette.

* * *

Graziella was not to be consoled.

The girls discovered this upon entering Graziella's room, where Minnie was helplessly patting her back and weakly offering a tissue. They were all gathered in her room now: Graziella buried amidst her pillows, shoulders racking with sobs; Velma perching on the edge of the bed, rubbing Graziella's back tenderly; Minnie curled up beside the foot of the bed, her head in Clarice's lap as she clutched a teddy bear Riff had won for Graziella at the Palisades Park ages ago; Clarice sitting on the foot of Graziella's bed, stroking Minnie's hair and staring at the wastepaper basket numbly; Bernice perched at the vanity, dull eyes resting on her lap; and Pauline, curled up on the chair at the desk, her feet tucked under her and her hands twiddling restlessly.

No one spoke for a long time, and Graziella's sobs eventually dwindled down into sniffles. No one even blinked when Bernice silently rose to use the bathroom, nor when the phone rang and Mrs. Spanella quickly picked it up. The silence crushing over them seemed impossible to break, save for Graziella's noises of despair.

Without any warning whatsoever, the mourning girl asked in a hoarse voice, "D'ya think he meant ta do it?"

Everyone jerked and turned to stare at Graziella, who was lying on her side, staring into space as her fingers absentmindedly wound themselves in her bedsheets. The girls exchanged confused glances, quite unsure of what to make of this.

"Whaddya mean, Graz?" Velma asked in the most careful tone possible.

"Bernardo." Graziella passed the back of her hand over her eyes. "D'ya think he meant ta kill Riff?"

Another collective exchange of glances.

"Don't lie just ta make me feel better," Graziella added, giving a huge sniff. "I wanna know the truth."

Eyes dropped to laps; what could they say?

"Oh, I hope not," Minnie murmured. "That would be just _terrible_…he didn't seem so bad, really. I mean, besides, well, being a Shark…"

Clarice shook her head. "I don't think he meant to. He an' Riff are—were—a lot alike, an' I know Riff would _never _wanna kill anyone."

"Ice said it was an accident," Velma agreed in a soft voice. "Said Bernardo was holdin' out the knife an' waitin' fer Riff ta get back in the fight, an' Riff moved s'fast that it happened before anyone knew it was gonna happen."

They were quiet for a moment. Then,

"Y'know, Riff's been in plenty-a fights," Graziella said, her voice a low hum. "I don't think there's a place on his body he ain't been bruised or cut, or both." She made a small noise that sounded something like a single chuckle. "I always, I always used ta get on him about how he was gonna get himself killed someday, but I sorta always knew that he was invincible." The faint smile melted. "Well, thought he was, anyway."

The door opened, revealing an apologetic-looking Mrs. Spanella. "Graziella, dear?"

Graziella sat up slowly, casting her mother a tired look. "Yeah, ma?"

"That was Mrs. Wyzek on the phone; she wanted to let you know that Riff and Tony's visitations are on Friday, and their funerals are on Saturday." Mrs. Spanella paused. "She said that it was how they would've wanted it."

Graziella trembled, and in her eyes appeared a look so tender that she seemed to have trouble forming words. "Yeah…yeah, they woulda," she agreed, her voice cracking as Mrs. Spanella quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She gave a small, watery chuckle. "What is it they were always sayin'? 'Birth ta earth' an' 'womb ta tomb'?" The small chuckles coming from her became more rapid and suddenly she was no longer laughing. She buried her face in Velma's lap, her tears renewed afresh. "Oh, _Riff_!" she sobbed.

Velma immediately began to stroke her friend's hair as Minnie all but leapt onto the bed beside Graziella, rubbing her back and whispering as many comforting things as she could think of to the trembling head of red curls. Clarice, Bernice, and Pauline, knowing that crowding around Graziella would only make things worse, remained where they were, wincing at each and every one of Graziella's cries.

When this bout had passed for the most part and the wails had been reduced to tremulous sniffles, Graziella slowly sat up again, rubbing her eyes furiously and sniffing nonstop. "The visitation an' the funeral…all-a yas are comin'…right?"

"A-course we are," Velma said firmly, giving all of them a significant look that said 'If you don't come, I will personally beat you with a pipe.' "_Right_, girls?"

"A-course," Clarice said, sounding shocked that Velma could be implying they would do anything else.

"Yeah, a-course," Bernice agreed, nodding her head fervently.

"Definitely," Pauline added.

"We'll be there for you, Graziella," Minnie assured her friend in a hushed tone. "And for Riff, and for Tony. We wouldn't miss it for the _world_."

Graziella fiddled with her pillow. "Think all the Jets'll come?" she prodded. She knew the answer, but nevertheless, she had to be _sure_.

"They _loved_ Riff an' Tony…a-course they'll be there," Bernice said in a very no-nonsense sort of tone. "Don't you worry about a thing, Graz; everyone's gonna be there a-their own free will. They was like brothers, all of 'em."

Graziella managed a very, very weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

No one needed to ask for what.


	16. Somewhere

A/N: I wasn't planning on putting this chapter up until later this week, but then I remembered that I never have time to get on the computer during Hell Week, and since I will probably die of exhaustion/relief on Friday when the show is over, I thought I'd best put this chapter up now.

This chapter is largely Anybodys-centric, although my favorite fluff!couple will make an appearance. There will also be the return of one of my favorite characters; I've always been fascinated by the way she and Anybodys would react to each other, hence the outcome of this chapter.

**Vee** tells me that this chapter will make my fic the longest on the fandom, which promptly made me squee with great delight, although I have a feeling _fell the angels_ will easily surpass this one. Speaking of which, **Vee** just put up _fell the angels_, which, at only its first chapter, is already the best fic I have ever read, no lie, and pretty much the unofficial companion piece to _Now It Begins_. You certainly don't have to read one fic to understand the other, but if you're reading this fic, you should _definitely_ read hers, it's way better.

I want to give huge thanks to **Vee** and **cookies** for reviewing last chapter; your reviews seriously get me through the week! Love you both!

* * *

Anybodys rolled out of bed in frustration at six-thirty in the morning and, knowing that sleep was simply not going to come, sat cross-legged on her fire escape in her pajamas with the bedspread draped over her shoulders—the breeze from the sea made the city chilly, even in summer.

She had hardly slept at all the night before, and she knew perfectly well why; how could anyone possibly sleep when Riff and Tony kept weaving in and out of their dreams? Bernardo, too, made a fair amount of appearances, and always, Anybodys was forced to relive their deaths, and always, she was somehow responsible for all of them. The last dream had Chino thanking her personally for helping him. That was when she refused to sleep anymore.

Four years down the drain. Four years of wanting to be a Jet. Four years of walking the walk and talking the talk. Four years of practicing hawking up spit that would make any man envious. A few attempted cigarettes, a few poisonous breaths of smoke and choking back coughs to prove how strong she was. Three years of short hair and boys' clothes and the least feminine underwear she could find—not that anyone was looking. Three years of making herself as much of a boy as she could, even to the point where she could be seen as manlier than some of the Jets. Three years of begging the Jets to let her in.

Four years of daring to dream—and only dream—about Riff. A lifetime of dreaming about Tony. And all of it, wasted.

She had purposely avoided Sissy all day yesterday and was going to be as quiet as possible today to make Sissy think she was either asleep or out. She knew what would happen if she was around Sissy for longer than a hello and goodbye; Sissy would want to talk about Saturday night, want to talk about Anybodys's _feelings_ and things like that. Anybodys, quite frankly, did not want to discuss anything that had to do with how she felt about any of what had transpired over the weekend; normal girls might, but Anybodys was far from a normal girl.

A breeze swept over the fire escape and Anybodys tightened the bedspread around her. It was a blue bedspread—just like nearly everything else she owned. Her bedsheets, bedspread and pillowcases were all blue, her walls were blue (a project she had happily undertaken to blot out the blood stain from a previous tenant on one wall), the curtains were blue, over half the clothes in her closet and dresser drawers were blue. Hell, the pajamas she was wearing now were blue. And if things weren't blue, they were yellow; there wasn't as much yellow in her room as there was blue, but there was still enough to make anyone who might have seen her room confident that she liked the color.

They were the Jet colors, after all. She had always wanted to leave no doubt in anyone's mind that she was completely and totally devoted to the Jets, and even if no one saw her bedroom, she was satisfied with the knowledge that it was bedecked in loyalty to the Jets. She had even spray-painted "JETS" onto her wall in dark blue, careful to imitate the exact scrawl seen all over walls in their turf. What a stupid idea. She wondered if she should paint over it; after Saturday night, she wasn't sure she wanted to see the Jets ever again.

Wasted. That's what her whole life had been. A complete and utter waste.

After several hours, Anybodys heard Sissy's door open and sat perfectly still; the bathroom door opened and Anybodys sighed in relief. Coming to a decision, Anybodys clambered through her window, depositing her bedspread on her bed and padding to her dresser. She rummaged around in the drawers and chose a pair of denim pedal-pushers and a yellow flannel blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves, the most feminine things she owned; she wasn't going to pretend to be a Jet anymore. She waited until Sissy had left the bathroom before slipping in. She took the fastest shower possible, toweling off her hair hurriedly and dressing as quickly and quietly as possible.

Anybodys was sitting on her bed, tying her shoelaces when she heard Sissy's bedroom door open again. "Annie?"

Anybodys clambered out the window and down the fire escape.

* * *

"Minnie?"

Minnie dropped the teddy bear she was absentmindedly holding in her surprise and jerked to look up at her window. Her heart began to thud. "Hello, Johnny," she said, her voice squeaking.

Baby John eased cautiously onto her windowsill. "Can I talk to ya for a minute?"

Minnie nodded, not quite meeting his eyes as she picked up her teddy bear again. Baby John had gotten it for her for Valentine's Day last year.

Baby John hesitated before swinging his legs over the ledge. "Minnie…I know that, that _you_ know about what happened in Doc's Saturday night."

Minnie looked up at him with anguished eyes. "Velma said that Anybodys swore you didn't mean to…but how could you _let_ it happen?" she whispered.

Baby John shook his head quickly. "I _couldna_ stopped it, Minnie! I wanted to, but…you didn't see the guys…they were scary," he said in a quieter tone.

Minnie's eyes dropped to her lap. "I'm sorry, Johnny," she said miserably. "I just…why do you think they did it?"

Baby John shook his head, perching carefully on the edge of her bed. "I dunno, Minnie. One minute we was just tryin' ta get rid-a her, an' the next…an' the next, it was completely different."

Minnie was quiet for a moment. Then, "Have you apologized to her yet?"

Baby John looked startled. "What?"

"Apologized," Minnie repeated. "Don't you think everyone who was there owes her one?"

Baby John shrugged uncomfortably. "Well…I guess so. But, gee, I don't think she wants ta see any of us."

"Still, at least she would know you're sorry," Minnie reminded him gently.

Baby John gave her a small smile. "Y'know, Minnie, yer real easy ta talk to."

Minnie blushed. "Oh, well, I think you're very easy to talk to too, Johnny."

Baby John was quiet for a moment. Then, "I think I'm gonna find the guys."

"Are you going to find Anita?" Minnie asked hopefully.

Baby John had an air of quiet determination about him. "Well…if they won't…I still will."

Minnie fairly beamed at him. "Thank you, Johnny."

Baby John blushed as he returned the smile. "Yer welcome, Minnie." The smile rapidly changed to a panicked expression, however, when he saw that she was crying. "Minnie, what's wrong?!" he asked, worried.

Minnie shook her head vehemently, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry, I just…oh, Johnny, I'm just awful! D'you know that when, when Velma told me Riff had died, I…oh, Johnny, for a moment, I was," she let out a sob, "I was _happy_, because, because it wasn't _you_!" She wiped furiously at her eyes. "I felt terrible when I realized it was Riff, but…oh, Johnny, if it had been _you_…"

"It's okay, Minnie," Baby John tried to assure her, putting an arm around her trembling shoulders. "_I'm_ okay."

Minnie smiled weakly. "I know." She took a deep breath. "Oh, look at me, crying all over the place! I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Oh, I don't mind," Baby John said without thinking. He reddened. "I mean, I don't _like_ seein' ya cry…I just, uh…"

Minnie smiled. "You're sweet, Johnny."

Baby John ducked his head. "Well, I think you're pretty sweet, too," he mumbled. "Are ya okay now?"

Minnie nodded. "Yes."

Baby John smiled. "Oh, good. I…I wanted ta go tell the guys…" He paused. "D'ya wanna come with me?"

Minnie positively beamed. "Oh, yes!"

Smiling, the two climbed out of her window and down her fire escape, hands joined.

* * *

Anybodys hesitated outside the door of the shop. Deciding this was stupid, she began to move away, only to march back after a reprimand from her conscience. Huffing, she paced up and down on the sidewalk, muttering to herself about how this was stupid, so stupid, but it was the right thing to do, and several people stared at her before hurrying away. Heaving an enormous sigh, she pulled open the neat glass door and slipped inside.

There was no one in the shop, and this surprised Anybodys. Surely there would be customers and employees on a Monday morning? She moved forward hesitantly, wondering if this was a sign for her to leave now.

"Is someone there?" a nightmarishly familiar voice called out.

Anybodys cleared her throat. "Yes," she said, trying to make her voice as indistinguishable as possible.

"I will be with you in just a second."

Anybodys tugged at her sleeves, suddenly feeling cold.

Anita appeared at the door, hurriedly buttoning up a hideous pink dressing gown. "How can I—" She stopped short at the sight of Anybodys. Her expression turned to one of fatigue to shock to a dark flush. "What are you doing here?"

Anybodys winced at the harsh tone. "I…well, I came ta apologize. About the other night. I…" She sighed. "Look, I don't know what I'm doin' here. I keep havin' these God-awful nightmares an', I dunno, I feel like the only way ta get rid of 'em is ta, ta come here an', an' tell ya I'm sorry." She bit her lip.

Anita gazed at her for a tense moment. "You did not join in when the boys began to…" She paused. "But then, you did not stop them, either."

Anybodys winced again; it seemed this black spot on her conscience would never be removed. "Look, Miss Anita, I didn't, I didn't think it was gonna go that far. None of 'em did, I guess. An' when it did…well, I just couldn't believe it. These guys…I've known 'em since I was a kid, an' they might be a bunch-a assholes, but I never knew 'em ta do anything like _this_."

Anita gazed at her curiously for a moment. "They sent _you_ to apologize for them?"

Anybodys shook her head. "They don't know I'm here. I came fa myself."

Anita gazed at her for another moment before gesturing for Anybodys to follow her. "Come in. I was just having my lunch. Someone has to watch the store at all times, and today was my day."

"Is that where everyone is?" Anybodys realized that it was, indeed, a quarter after twelve and time for most people to be eating lunch.

Anita nodded as she pulled the ugly dressing gown off. "Yes. Have you eaten?"

Anybodys shook her head. "Ain't even had breakfast."

Anita looked surprised. "You should eat! Have an orange," she suggested, holding it out.

Anybodys shook her head again. "I ain't hungry."

Anita watched her curiously for a moment. "Neither am I," she said, setting it down. "Well, it's here if you want it."

"I ain't been hungry fa much-a anything aftah, well…" Anybodys cleared her throat loudly. "So…this is where ya work."

Anita shrugged. "Yes. I mostly work at the front with the customers and Madam Lucia, but sometimes I have to help cut or sew or measure."

"I wasn't sure if ya'd be workin' today," Anybodys admitted.

Anita sat down at a chair she had pulled beside a sewing table. "It was either sit at home with nothing to do and mourn or come here and keep myself busy and mourn. I figured I might as well earn money while I mourn."

Anybodys fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "I'm really sorry," she said quietly after a moment, her voice cracking. "I'm really, really sorry. It wasn't supposed ta happen, none of it. Tony only did it 'cause Bernardo killed Riff; he an' Riff was like brothers. An' I know Bernardo didn't mean ta do it either; I saw it, Riff ran onto the knife, it was an accident, nobody meant ta hoit anyone, except Chino, I know he meant ta—"

"Wait, wait," Anita interrupted, waving her hands in alarm. "Stop. I know what happened; the boys told me."

Anybodys's eyes dropped to the floor. "Oh."

Anita tilted her head. "Why are you here? You are afraid of me, I can see that. And you did not do anything." Though her words seemed forgiving enough, an underlying note of bitterness could be detected.

"That's the problem, though," Anybodys protested. "I didn't do anything when I shoulda." She took a deep, shaky breath. "Somethin' similar happened ta me when I was twelve," she confessed, bowing her head. "I ain't told anyone since it happened. But…I was…I think I was scared-a repeatin' it. I saw me where I shoulda seen you an' I couldn' think straight." She paused. "I'm sorry."

Anita sighed as well. "I shouldn't blame you for what happened. You couldn't have stopped it, and they might have tried to take you, too."

Anybodys swallowed. "That's what I'm afraid of. I never thought they had it in 'em ta be that low…but there's a first time fa everything, I guess."

Anita looked at her wearily. "Why do you try so hard to be a boy?" she asked suddenly.

Anybodys paused at this question; no one had ever asked her this before. At least, not with such seriousness. She shrugged her scrawny shoulders. "Well…where does bein' a girl getcha?"

Anita smiled faintly. "I see." She was quiet for a moment before raising a hand and crooking her finger. "Come here."

Anybodys hesitated but, seeing the calm look on Anita's face, took a few steps forward. She flinched as Anita raised both her hands to her face, but Anita's dark eyes met her own. "I will not hurt you. I only want to look."

Anybodys nodded slightly and allowed Anita to tilt her head, turning it at different angles. Her warm touch and the fingers ghosting over her skin sent shivers down Anybodys's spine, but she resolved to hold still. After a moment, Anita's hands dropped into her lap. "You are not…unattractive," she said, stumbling over the English. "You have a good bone structure," she added, positive of this term, having read it many times in glamour magazines. "You just need some color…something on your eyes." She brushed her fingers over Anybodys's forehead, lightly pushing the dark red hair there and again sending shivers down Anybodys's spine. "You should grow your hair out. But keep the bangs; they look good on you."

Anybodys was uncertain of how to respond to this; she wasn't even sure if she would make a complete return to being a girl—being an intense tomboy for three years was a difficult habit to break; even as a child she had run around in pedal-pushers when the other girls sported skirts. "Um," she said. "Thank you?"

Anita gave a small smile. "How is it you never became a Jet Girl?"

Anybodys took a slight step back, annoyed that, once again, someone was asking her why she couldn't be a prissy little tramp like Graziella. "'Cause I ain't girly, I ain't stupid, I ain't pretty, an' I ain't anybody's girl," she said with perhaps more venom than was necessary.

Silence. Then, "You sound upset that you are not pretty or anybody's girl."

"Well, I ain't," Anybodys said roughly. "I'm just peachy-keen with the way I am, an' I don't need good looks or some idiot guy ta make me feel that way."

"But you would like one," Anita said quietly.

Anybodys turned around, a little disconcerted. She didn't answer.

She heard some rustling. "I saw you running with Tony the other night, after he left Maria's." Her tongue clipped over "Maria," making the r sound like a halted l. "You loved him, didn't you?"

"An' Riff," Anybodys admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"Is that why you wanted to be a Jet? So that they would respect you as a person instead of using you for being a girl?"

Anybodys shivered, unnerved at how easily Anita could see through her. "Somethin' like that." After a moment, she confided, "I dunno that I wanna be a Jet anymore, though." It was the first time she had made this admonition aloud, and it made the reality of the thing set in even further.

The rustling stopped. "You are going to stop trying to be a Jet because of one incident?"

"It was a pretty big incident," Anybodys reminded her, turning around. Surely Anita understood that, more than anyone?

Anita, who had been adjusting an incomplete dress on a dummy, placed a pin in the bodice to hold it together and turned fully to Anybodys. "How old are you?"

Surprised, Anybodys said, "Fifteen."

Anita shook her head slowly. "So young to have your world turned upside down," she murmured, returning to the dummy.

"But it's always been like this," Anybodys said, confused. "I mean, yeah, havin' Riff'n Tony die is…well, I hate it, an' I know things won't ever be the same. But shit—I mean, stuff like this happens all the time. It's just how life _is_." At Anita's disbelieving look, she went on, "My dad was a drunk an' had about fifty affairs an' left us fer a whole 'nother family he had, an' he got hauled off ta the clink fa killin' another sot in a bar fight. My ma went nuts, my sister's boyfriend tried rapin' me when I was twelve, then she became a prostitute…this stuff _happens_, an' it's gonna _keep_ happenin'. There ain't no stoppin' it, so we all might as well get used to it."

Anita, eyes still intent on her work, said, "In Puerto Rico, things were, well, worse than here. I worked in a sewing shop for very little pay, and we were not allowed sick days or vacations; if you could not make it, you had to send someone else in your place. Bullets were always flying, always, and the sickness…it was terrible. So many of my friends were getting married to men who were either poor as dirt or horrible to them, sometimes both, and the babies…so many babies!" She pursed her lips for a moment. "All my life, I had heard how wonderful America was. And you know, when the ship docked and the fog cleared and I saw the city, I fell down on my knees and _cried_."

"_Cried_?" Anybodys repeated, stunned.

"Cried," Anita confirmed. "I cried because these tall buildings were not bug-infested palm trees. I cried because men had made them and because they would be my home now, not that hideous shack with a leaky roof and molding walls. You cannot imagine how beautiful this city was."

"I hate it."

Anita smiled wryly. "Having grown up here, I'm sure you do. But I loved it. I made enough money to help support my family here, and for fewer hours than in Puerto Rico. I could cut my hair and wear low necklines and high hemlines and _makeup_. I could hold Bernardo's hand and kiss him with people watching, and I did not have to worry about death from bullets or disease every minute of the day. You cannot imagine how wonderful that sort of freedom is."

Anybodys shrugged helplessly. "I guess not."

Anita's smile faded. "But that changed, of course. We fled Puerto Rico to live, and yet Bernardo is dead, Maria is a widow and a gun found its way into Chino's innocent hand."

Anybodys's lip curled in disgust. "I wouldn' call him _innocent_…"

Anita sighed. "Chino was innocent before he came here. He was a very sweet boy, and he loved Maria more than anything. He paid for her ticket over here, you know. He came from a good family and got a job as an assistant at a dress factory; his boss told him he would become a union operator someday. Bernardo adored him; he couldn't think of anyone better to marry his baby sister." She hesitated. "But then he got involved with the Sharks, and after Tony killed Bernardo…" She sighed again. "He left Puerto Rico so long ago that we thought he would be innocent for the rest of his life. But we were wrong. I see that now."

Anybodys scoffed. "Yeah, well, nobody stays innocent in the West Side. 'Cept fer Minnie, but she's the _only_ exception ta the rule."

Anita furrowed her brow. "Who is Minnie?"

Anybodys shrugged. "Just a girl. An' the only person who's lived here fer more'n a year an' doesn't hate it."

The backdoor opened and two girls spilled in, deep in conversation. They froze as they saw Anita and Anybodys.

"We're sorry," the taller one said, brushing a curl out of her face. "Are you a customer?"

"She's a friend," Anita said quickly. "Francisca, Rosalia, can you wait outside a moment, please?"

"_Sì_, Anita," the shorter one said, hurriedly closing the door as the two backed out.

"I guess I'd better go," Anybodys said, clearing her throat. "Thanks fer, fer hearin' me out. Ya coulda kicked me out, but ya didn', an' I really appreciate that." She turned to go.

"Anybodys?"

Anybodys paused and turned around.

Anita eyed her levelly. "Thank you. For coming in here and apologizing. I know it could not have been easy for you."

"Yer welcome," Anybodys said quietly, feeling guilty, somehow, for being the one to say this. She returned Anita's small smile and ducked out of the bridal shop, feeling as if a thousand weights had been lifted from her shoulders.

Anita glanced at the table and smiled; the orange was gone.


	17. Make of Our Lives One Life

A/N: You know how I keep talking in these author's notes about how I'm getting stressed and then thinking after this, I'll never have to worry about it again? Yeah. Don't know who I was kidding. Anyway, I very nearly forgot to post this chapter, what with stupid boys and projects and AP exams (anyone know what the essay phrase is this year? I'm trying to get people to write "I'm on a boat"), but that wouldn't be fair to the few people actually loyally reading this, since I owe them so much. This is definitely not one of the better chapters, and someday I'll probably go back and edit it, but anyway, here it is; I'm sorry it's not that great. Even though Julia Child says we should never apologize for our work. But whatever.

Also, I do not speak Italian; _ich spreche manches Deutsch_ (obviously, since I have no idea if that's even the correct form of _manch_), so if you know the correct Italian and could point me in the right direction, I would be forever grateful.

Major thanks to **Vee, Meg**, and **cookies** for their very supportive reviews!

* * *

_Tap tap_.

Clarice groaned and settled further into her pillow, hoping the noise would go away.

_Tap tap_.

On the other side of the room, Bernice mumbled something about raisin bread.

_Tap tap_.

Clarice groaned again and sat up, running her fingers through her hair and patting it down. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," she snapped at the window, yawning as she reached for her dressing gown. She knotted the ribbons at the chest and rubbed her eyes. She drew back the curtains and pushed up the window and, upon seeing her visitor, immediately snapped, "_What_ are you doin' here?"

Big Deal winced. "Well, that wasn't _quite_ the reaction I was goin' fer. Look, I know it's late, but I had ta talk ta ya when I knew no one else was gonna interrupt or overhear, an' I figured Bernice's probably asleep—"

"So was I!" Clarice said hotly. "Most people _are_ at two in the mornin', Big Deal!"

He frowned. "Oh, so we're back ta that, are we?"

"Yer lucky I ain't callin' ya what I wanna," Clarice informed him seriously. "It's a lot worse'n Big Deal."

Big Deal ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. "I know that ya think I'm a rat an' a pig an' a scummy, no-good piece-a trash—"

"Among other things," Clarice muttered.

"…but I just want ya ta know that what I did…I ain't proud of it, any of it. An' if I'd been thinkin' straight, I wouldna done it, ya know I wouldna," Big Deal persisted. "I ain't that kinda guy, Clarice."

"Oh, really?" Clarice snapped. "Because it seems ta me like you _are_."

Big Deal sighed. "Clarice, _Schatze_…I dunno what else I can do. I've said I'm sorry, an' I mean it, an' I'll do anything ta prove it…"

"Anything?" Clarice repeated, looking as if she might consider it.

Big Deal straightened up. "Anything," he reaffirmed, leaning forward slightly.

Clarice tapped her chin before saying, "Hmm…well, if you _really_ wanna prove it, leave me _the hell alone_!" she snapped, giving him a shove.

Big Deal's arms flailed as he struggled to regain his balance and not topple off the fire escape. Clarice's eyes widened in fear and she gasped, but he gripped the railing and righted himself. Far from relaxing, however, Clarice only stiffened. "Oh, I wish ya'd fallen over!" She slammed her window shut. "An' I wouldn't be sorry if ya did!" she added, jerking the curtains closed.

Bernice rolled over in bed, sighing. "What was all that about?"

"Just a nightmare," Clarice huffed, throwing her robe on the ground angrily. "A big, stupid nightmare that won't go away."

* * *

Graziella paced up and down the length of Doc's restlessly. "I just…I feel so _bad_ about it."

"We couldna done anything," Velma tried to remind her. "We had no idea what was goin' on."

"Like us bein' there woulda stopped 'em," Pauline muttered, dragging on her cigarette.

Velma glared at her. "Somethin' ya wanna share with the class, Pauline?"

Pauline rolled her eyes as she blew a stream of smoke out of the side of her mouth. Bernice claimed that that was the European style of blowing smoke, and Pauline felt that it made her look classier. Not that it did. "Oh, _honestly_; we all know that the Jets were messed up that night. No need ta beat yerself up over it, Graz. Ya didn't _do_ anything."

"But I'm still a Jet Girl, an' it _was_ the Jets that did it," Graziella snapped, twisting her hands nervously. She came to a halt. "I…I _am_ still a Jet Girl…ain't I?"

Velma and Pauline shot concerned glances at each other. No one had ever been more confident of their place in this world than Graziella Sophia Spanella, and the fact that she could possibly be questioning her long-time position was disconcerting. It had been Graziella who had determined who should and should not be a Jet Girl, and she had even taken it upon herself to file a complaint with Riff if any of the candidates for Jets were not to her liking. Not that this held much weight with Riff and Tony.

"Well, _a-course_ ya are, honey," Velma exclaimed, motioning for Graziella to take the place beside her. "Why wouldn't ya be?"

Graziella sighed as she dropped into the chair. "I dunno," she said, dropping her forehead into her hand. "I just…I been Riff's girl almost as long as I been a Jet Girl. Now that Riff…now that Riff ain't, ain't here, where does that leave me?"

"Well, I don't got a guy, an' I'm a Jet Girl, ain't I?" Pauline reminded her friend, watching the smoke from her cigarette swirl.

Velma shot her another glare, irked at Pauline's callousness.

Graziella narrowed her eyes slightly at Pauline. "Ta be a Jet Girl, ya gotta be datin' a Jet or be sleepin' with 'em, an' I ain't a tramp like you."

Pauline, who was not insulted in the slightest bit, shrugged and tipped some ash into the ashtray. "Well, Susan an' Wilma sleep with the Jets, an' they ain't Jet Girls. An' Carole's datin' a Jet, an' she ain't a Jet Girl."

"That's not necessarily true, Graz," Velma said, ignoring Pauline. "I mean, look at Minnie. She don't date _any_-a the Jets, an' she's a Jet Girl."

Graziella's miserable expression gave way to one of thoughtfulness.

Encouraged by this, Velma went on, "Look, just 'cause ya ain't datin' a Jet anymore don't mean yer kicked outta the Jets. Everyone respects ya," (that was a bit of a lie, but a white one; and that, Velma figured, made it okay) "an' I know all us girls still look up ta ya. _Right_, Pauline?"

"Sure," Pauline said with less enthusiasm than Velma had hoped for, dragging on her cigarette.

Graziella exhaled loudly and stood up, pacing up and down again. After a moment, she burst, "I gotta talk to her."

"Ta who?" Velma asked, surprised.

"_Anita_," Graziella said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Are you still on about what happened in here?" Pauline asked incredulously, her cigarette suspended halfway to her mouth.

Graziella gave her an annoyed glance. "It ain't just that! I…look, talkin' ta youse two is great an' all, but I gotta talk ta someone who, who knows what I'm goin' through."

"Someone else who lost a guy," Velma said quietly.

Graziella took a deep breath. "Yeah."

Pauline took another drag on her cigarette and then tapped some of the ash into the ashtray. Shifting uneasily, she said, "If ya really wanna talk to her…well, Anybodys came in here this mornin' fer some Aspirin, said it was for her sister." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I came in fer somethin' fer cramps, an' while we was waitin' on Doc, Doc mentioned somethin' about Anita comin' in yesterday an' askin' for her."

"Askin' fer Anybodys?" Graziella asked, dumbfounded.

Pauline nodded. "Yeah. Said she wanted ta know if Anybodys was okay. I dunno what the hell that was about, an' I asked Anybodys, an' she told me she went ta visit Anita yesterday. Said she worked at Madam Lucia's Bridal Shop. Just…if ya wanted ta know where she is," she added in a mutter.

Velma realized that Pauline was uncomfortable with showing kindness, and she almost felt, well, _sorry_ for the girl.

Graziella's expression softened. "Thanks, Pauline," she said, her voice sincere. She picked up her purse and turned to go.

"Wait, wait; I'll go with ya," Velma said, jumping to her feet. She was aware that the Sharks were probably not going to make any more trouble, particularly with Riff's girl, but she could not in good conscious allow her best friend to go to Shark Territory all by herself.

"I can take a hint," Pauline said with her usual candor—she was comfortable now that they were back on the old footing. She hesitated as Graziella moved towards the door. "Hey, Graz…" She paused. "Aw, never mind."

Graziella gave her a small smile. "See ya, Pauline."

Silence, Velma supposed, really did speak louder than words.

* * *

Bernice breezed into her bedroom after a shower, toweling off her hair. "Hi," she said carelessly to Clarice, sitting on her bed and adjusting her bathrobe.

Clarice, who was sitting Indian-style on her bed, didn't even look up. "Hi," she returned softly, staring intently at the delicate hands in her lap.

Bernice glanced up. "Hey," she said in a much softer tone, "you okay?"

Clarice gave a small, humorless laugh. "Me? Oh, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I dunno; ya been actin' kinda…well, _off_ ever since ya broke things off with Big Deal, an' I ain't just talkin' about ya throwin' the flowerpot at Gee-Tar when he came by ta apologize," Bernice said, watching her twin with an air of caution. "D'ya…d'ya wanna talk about it?"

Clarice sighed, flopping back against her pillows. "I guess I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Well, ya could always clam up like ya've been doin' lately an' not tell me anything," Bernice reminded her. She moved to sit on Clarice's bed and rested a hand on her sister's knee. "C'mon, honey, talk ta me."

Clarice turned to gaze at a poster on the wall of _An American in Paris_. After a moment, she heaved an enormous sigh and spoke. "I just…I'm so _mad_ at him. Frankie's _always_ been such, such a _sweet_ guy. He always puts up with me, even when I'm leadin' Gee-Tar on, an' he's good ta his family, even though a lotta guys here only use their folks for a place ta crash when they get tired-a the streets, an', well, I _love_ him, an' he said he loves me too. An' then he…he went an' tried ta _rape _a girl! It just don't make any _sense_!"

"I don't think it made any sense ta him, either," Bernice said quietly. "From what I can tell, none-a the guys really knew what they was doin' until, well, y'know, aftah it happened."

Clarice jerked away from her sister. "Yer takin' _his_ side?!"

"I ain't takin' _anyone's_ side!" Bernice said hotly. "I'm just tryin' ta tell ya that I know he's absolutely over the _moon_ about ya an' he looks almost as pathetic as _Gee-Tar_, waitin' for ya ta throw him a bone. An' every damn time I walk outta here, he asks me if ya've said anything about him. It's sick!"

"It's not _my_ fault he's bein' that way," Clarice muttered stubbornly.

Bernice made a noise of frustration. "Clarice, _amore, ti amo, sì?_"

"_Sì_," Clarice reluctantly agreed.

"An' you know that I wouldn't ever go against ya, even over a boy, _giusto_?"

"_Giusto_," Clarice sighed. "But, Bernice, don'tcha think I'm _justified_ in bein' royally pissed at him?"

"Have ya heard his side-a the story?" Bernice countered.

Clarice turned pink and dropped her eyes to her lap, twisting her skirt in her hands. "Um…"

"Uh-huh," Bernice said wryly. "Clarice, maybe ya oughta hear him out. Don't youse two have that cutesy little rule about not walkin' away angry or somethin'?"

"Nothin' was this serious before!" Clarice argued. "Me flirtin' with Gee-Tar ta make Frankie jealous an' him almost _rapin'_ a girl are two _completely_ different things! Bernice, I know ya ain't a one-guy-kinda-girl, but wouldn't ya be mad at _your_ boyfriend if he'd done that to a girl?"

Bernice sighed, adjusting her robe. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just…you love him, don'tcha?"

Clarice shifted, uncomfortable. "Well…yes."

"An' isn't a big part-a love forgivin' an' not holdin' the past against the person ya love?" Bernice challenged. "Big Deal always forgives _you_, even though a lotta guys woulda dropped ya after the five-hundredth time ya batted those lashes at Gee-Tar."

Clarice looked at her sister in surprise. "I didn't know you ever loved anyone. Thought ya woulda told me if ya did."

Bernice shrugged, averting her eyes in embarrassment. "Well, I love you, don't I? You drive me crazy, but I'd still stick up fer you no matter what, an' any guy who'd make ya cry would have _me_ ta deal with, an' it wouldn't be a pretty sight."

Clarice gazed at her twin for a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Bernice's waist and squeezing her. "_Ti voglio bene_."

Bernice, surprised, obligingly put an arm around Clarice's back. "_Sì, ti voglio bene troppo_." She patted it for a moment before starting and staring. "Clarice, are you _cryin'_?!"

Clarice, who had buried her face in Bernice's shoulder, nodded miserably. "I c-can't help it!" she wailed.

"Oh, _dolcezza_," Bernice cooed, tightening her arms around Clarice. "I didn't know it upset ya that bad!"

"No, a-course not; yer too busy lecturin' me about somethin' ya don't know anything about!" Clarice snapped, hiccupping. "Ya have no idea how hard it is ta not run ta him an' forget everything. But I _can't._ I can't 'cause-a Anita. If the Sharks did somethin' like that ta me, I'd hate any-a their girls fer stayin' with 'em."

Bernice felt a stab of guilt as she rubbed Clarice's back. "Well…when ya put it _that_ way…"

Clarice pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I shouldn't be layin' this on you."

"Well, what're sisters _for_?" Bernice wanted to know, arching an eyebrow.

Clarice gave her a thin smile as she wiped her eyes.

"Look…how about I give ya a shoulder rub? A nice long one like we used ta give each other," Bernice offered.

Clarice sniffed against, wiping her eyes once more. "Okay," she agreed. "But…could ya hold me a little bit longer?" she asked in a very small voice.

"Well, a-course I can," Bernice said quietly, opening her arms up to Clarice.

And suddenly it was like they were five again, clinging to each other in the midst of a thunderstorm or after one was positive that a foot-grabbing, child-eating monster waited underneath her bed, each bravely telling the other it would be okay, back in the days when they sought solace in the arms of each other instead of those of a boy. Those were the days when they had laughed and cried and lived and loved with each other and only each other and were not ashamed to show it. It was ironic, Bernice thought, how no matter how hard they had tried to ignore the past, they had ended up right where they had started.

* * *

Minnie burst into Doc's so noisily and ungracefully that the Jets and Pauline jerked in surprise. "I just found out," she gasped, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. "Daddy said that Chino's trial will be in one month from tomorrow!"

There was an instant reaction among the gathered. Ice and Big Deal raised their eyebrows at each other; Action pounded his fist into an open palm; A-Rab and Snowboy smirked; Baby John looked nervous (although this was not much different from his usual behavior as of late); Tiger and Mouthpiece exchanged dubious expressions; Gee-Tar looked contemplative as he lit up; Joyboy shrugged and returned to the comic he was reading over Baby John's shoulder; and Pauline blew out a stream of smoke carelessly.

"What's he pleadin'?" Snowboy asked.

"Guilty," Minnie replied, gratefully sinking into the chair between Baby John and Pauline.

Big Deal raised his eyebrows again. "He's admittin' to it?"

Snowboy scoffed. "'Course he is; courts always favor people who admit ta doin' it than keep sayin' they didn't."

"Well, gee, ain't it because he feels bad about it?" Baby John piped up.

Action sneered at him. "That dirty Spic don't give a flyin'—"

"Action," Ice said curtly.

Glancing at the girls, Action scowled and hunkered down in his seat.

"Do the Sharks know yet?" Gee-Tar asked.

Minnie shrugged helplessly. "I don't know; daddy didn't say. He doesn't even know that _I_ know; I overheard him talking to mother when he came home a few minutes ago."

"An' ya told us anyway?" Pauline asked, looking impressed despite herself. "That was real ballsy of ya, Minnie."

Minnie blushed. "Thanks." She paused. "I think."

"So's he still in jail, or was somebody stupid enough ta bail him out?" A-Rab wanted to know.

Minnie sighed. "He's still in jail." Privately, she thought he ought to be allowed out at least for Bernardo's funeral, but she wasn't about to share that opinion with the Jets.

"Lucky fa him," Action said, pounding his fist into his palm again. "Otherwise he might not make it ta his trial."

Minnie paled. "Oh, Action, don't _joke_ about things like that!" she cried.

"I wasn't jokin'," Action muttered darkly.

Ice jerked his head at Tiger, who promptly cuffed Action in the back of the head. The shorter Jet rounded on him at once, leaping out of his seat and raising his fists. "What the hell was that fa, huh?"

"_Cool_ it, Action," Ice said in a disgruntled sort of tone. "Minnie's right. Stop talkin' about gettin' Chino; what's done is done."

Action watched Ice with a cutting glare. "Riff wouldn't just sit by an' let the murderer-a his best pal just walk away."

There was a collective intake of breath. Action had crossed a line that even he knew better to cross, had passed the point of no return, and no one was entirely sure how even cool, calm Ice was going to take it. All eyes turned to the new captain.

Ice exhaled a stream of smoke, his eyes never leaving Action. "Riff," he said in an unperturbed tone, "could control himself. Can you say the same thing fer yerself?"

Action, face screwed up in fury, stormed out of Doc's and slammed the door behind him, knocking some candy off the display as he did so. As long as Action couldn't hold onto his temper, he was just as far from becoming captain as he had been when Riff and Tony were alive—and that was a relief to all the Jets.

* * *

A-Rab glanced out the window at the street as Baby John and Minnie yammered away about…well, about something. They'd been talking about cats a few moments ago, but knowing those two, it was entirely possible they had changed subjects five times and were now discussing rainbows.

"…and one time I saw a great big rainbow!" Minnie was saying.

A-Rab rolled his eyes heavenward, tipping his chair back. Everyone had split in clusters of twos and threes, and now it was just these three kids left. A-Rab resisted a snort. Three kids. That's what he, Baby John, and Anybodys had always been to the Jets; the three little kids. He'd always resented being lumped in with a baby like, well, Baby John (they were best pals, but the kid still had a lot of growing up to do) and a wannabe like Anybodys. Of course Anybodys hadn't minded the title at all; it meant she was part of the Jets, in an unofficial sort of way that made everyone mad at Tony for connecting those kids to the Jets in the first place.

"Whaddya think, A-Rab, buddy?" Baby John asked.

A-Rab turned to them, startled. "Huh?"

"Whaddya think about Anybodys bein' a Jet now?" Baby John repeated patiently.

A-Rab blinked. That was oddly coincidental. "I dunno…is she?"

"Well, she simply _has_ to be, after everything she's done for the Jets and all," Minnie said practically.

A-Rab resisted the temptation to tell her that Anybodys would gladly have done anything for the Jets in the past, and that had never helped her before. Instead, he said, "Well…I don't…I don't really think she wants ta _be_ a Jet anymore, actually."

Baby John furrowed his brow. "Why not?"

A-Rab gave him a Look.

A look of dawning realization came over Baby John. "_Oh_, because-a…oh." His ears turned pink.

Minnie, having caught on, dropped her eyes to her lap. After a moment she said tentatively, "Maybe if you just _apologized_ to her…"

"She told me she never wanted me ta talk to her or even look at her ever again. 'Sides, I don't think she's the kinda girl ta accept apologies," A-Rab reminded the younger girl.

Minnie shook her head. "You'd be surprised what a heartfelt apology can do," she informed him in a gentle tone.

A-Rab snorted and tipped his chair back again, turning to look outside. Minnie was a sweet kid, but honestly, there were times when she didn't have a damn clue.


	18. Day After Day

A/N: A word to the wise: just because one of your BFFs makes AMAZING pound cake does not necessarily mean you are required to eat every slice she insists you have, because as much as your taste-buds appreciate it, your stomach? Will not. So yeah. It helps, though, if your drama teacher lets you sleep with a fluffy pillow in the backroom.

Anyway, this chapter actually takes place in one place and covers only two conversations (which are actually both going on at the same time). I'm not _exactly_ sure if it's canon or not (**LCV Productions** have pretty well set it in stone, but that, unfortunately, doesn't always mean Ernest Lehman intended it to be so), but Bernardo certainly treats Pepe like his lieutenant, and so it seems viable that he would assume captaincy after Bernardo died.

Mucho gracias to my very dear reviewers, **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies**; what would I do without you guys?

* * *

"Graz, maybe we oughta just go back," Velma said cautiously. They had been searching for Madam Lucia's Bridal Shop for the past twenty minutes and had, as of yet, not found any indication of the place. Velma did not like PR Territory; people called out to each other in staccato voices in a language she did not understand, dirty children gawked at her shamelessly, and the place reeked of garlic and spices she couldn't identify but wasn't entirely sure she wanted to smell again.

"It's gotta be around here _some_place!" Graziella snapped; her inability to find the place was making her lose her patience. "Maybe we oughta ask fa directions."

"If they even speak English," Velma muttered.

Graziella cast her a look. "Don't be so negative. 'Sides, I'm Italian, an' Italian an' Spanish ain't too different."

Velma rolled her eyes; Graziella may have been Italian, but she certainly never spoke it unless she was swearing.

Graziella, spying a woman walking down the street, called out to her, "Uh, 'scuse me, _señora_?"

The woman looked around before her eyes settled in some surprise on Graziella. "_Sì_?" she asked cautiously.

Graziella, with a smug look at Velma, said, "We're lookin' fer Madam Lucia's Bridal Shop; y'know where that is?"

The woman blinked.

"_No comprende_?" Graziella sighed.

"_Lo siento_," the woman said, shrugging and moving away.

A fruit vendor leaned over his cart. "_Señorita_," he called. When the two girls turned, he continued, "You are looking for Madam Lucia's?"

"D'ya know where it is?" Graziella asked, grateful the man spoke English.

The man nodded. "_Sì, sì;_ my daughter, Francisca, works there. If you keep going down that way," he pointed down the street, "and take a left at the first stoplight, follow that sidewalk down a ways, and it will be on your right. It is almost lunch hour, but someone should be there."

"Thanks! Uh, _mucho gracias, señor," _Graziella amended.

The man smiled. "_De nada_."

"C'mon, Vel," Graziella said, taking Velma's hand and pulling her along behind her. "See? Not _everyone_ don't understand English," she added as soon as they were out of earshot of the man.

"I didn't…oh, never mind," Velma said peevishly. "If ya don't mind my askin', just what're ya gonna do if Anita ain't there?"

Graziella's pace slowed, but she did not stop completely. "Well…wait around for her, I guess. Or ask where I could find her. I gotta talk to her, Vel."

Velma sighed. "I know." In truth, she didn't know; she didn't know what it was like to lose the boy you loved, didn't know what it was like to feel that huge, empty void where the promise of seeing him later once rested. It hurt her just a little bit, knowing that for once, Graziella wanted to talk to someone else. Whenever anything had upset her in the past, Velma was the first person she would call—now, Graziella would rather talk to an almost complete stranger. But perhaps the thing that hurt her the most was knowing that she was unable to understand Graziella's agony and, hopefully, would never have to. She wondered vaguely if this was how Bernice and Clarice had felt when Velma moved to the West Side and took their place as Graziella's best friend; they had never _seemed_ upset by it, but that certainly didn't mean it hadn't stung them at least a little bit.

"Look!" Graziella cried out a few moments later, pointing. "There it is! Madam Lucia's Bridal Shop! C'mon!" Grabbing Velma's hand once more, Graziella towed her into the bridal shop. "Hello?"

Two feminine voices had been speaking in rapid Spanish in the back room, but they halted at the sound of Graziella's voice. Two girls appeared at the doorway to the back room, and Graziella recognized both as Shark girls. The first had bronze-colored hair that was obviously the result of a bottle; Graziella vaguely recalled her hanging off of one of the more important Sharks at the dance. Behind her stood Anita.

Graziella swallowed and squared her shoulders, holding her head higher. "Anita? Can I talk ta ya for a few minutes? In…in private?"

The two Puerto Ricans exchanged glances before Anita nodded, turning back to Graziella. "_Sì_; come in the back." She motioned for Graziella to follow her as she turned back into the room.

Graziella, giving a small, reassuring smile to Velma, slipped past the other Shark girl and into the back room. The walls were covered in bright-colored, flouncing dresses, and some of the fluffy material was draped over the three sewing machines and one cutting table. Anita sat behind one table (which had a lunch spread out over it). "Please, have a seat."

"Thanks," Graziella said, carefully perching in the seat closest to Anita. She fiddled with her purse strap, unsure of what to say.

Anita broke the silence. "Am I to expect every Jet Girl coming to visit me?"

Graziella looked up, confused. "Huh?"

"Yesterday Anybodys came to apologize for what happened in Doc's; today you and your friend have come." Anita smiled wryly.

"Oh. Well, Velma's only here fa moral support or somethin'," Graziella said, shrugging. "I…I came ta apologize. About Doc's." It sounded less impressive, somehow, than Graziella had imagined it.

Anita glanced down at her hands, which were kneading the material of her skirt. "You do not need to. It was not your fault."

"But I still feel like I oughta," Graziella protested.

Anita shook her head. "I am willing to forget it, as long as there are no more murders."

Graziella bit the inside of her cheek; this is what she had been hoping they would get to. And yet…and yet, somehow, she wasn't sure what to say. She stumbled over the words. "Y'know…Riff…Riff wouldna let the guys do that to ya."

Anita studied her calmly. "I do not think it would've happened if Riff had been there."

Graziella's shoulders relaxed, relieved that Anita understood her so well. "Yer right, it wouldna. Riff's, Riff's a really good guy. He was always nice ta everyone, an' he never treated girls like that." She was babbling now, saying stupid, nonsensical things that Anita probably cared less about, and she couldn't make herself stop—there was finally someone who understood her grief.

Anita gave the smallest of smiles. "I am sure." She paused. "Bernardo…he respected him. As an enemy. He thought the other gangs were jokes, but he knew the Jets were a threat." She paused again. "I know that doesn't sound like it, but that was his way of respecting them."

"No, no, I understand," Graziella assured her. "Riff felt that way, too. He was…well, I think he was a little scared-a the Sharks. But that mighta been 'cause he didn't have Tony ta back him up."

Anita hesitated before venturing forth, "What…what is the story with Tony? I know that he was a Jet, but he seemed…different."

Graziella sighed, resting her cheek in her open palm. "Riff'n Tony was best friends growin' up. Riff's parents died when he was a kid an' his uncle was a louse, so he moved in with Tony. They, they was like brothers. Then they started up the Jets, an' they was both the leaders; Tony never did anything without talkin' ta Riff, an' Riff never did anything without talkin' ta Tony. Everyone liked Tony; he was the kinda guy that made everything better." She sighed. "Then, less'n a year ago, the Jets had a big, all-out rumble with the Emeralds. Tony got cut up pretty bad, an' the Youth Board made him do some community service. Then about six months ago he up an' got a job at Doc's an' stopped hangin' around the Jets. Nobody really knows why, an' he wouldn't even tell Riff. Just felt like it, from what I can figure."

Anita bit her lip. "Maria…she tried to tell me he was a good man…but he had killed Bernardo. I could not think of someone who had killed the man I loved as a good man."

Graziella's eyes dropped to her lap. "I know what ya mean," she said softly. "I didn't wanna believe it-a Bernardo, even when everyone kept tellin' me Riff ran onta his knife an' he didn't mean it."

Anita nodded. "I have known Bernardo for a long time, and I know that as much as he hated his enemies, he would never, ever try to kill someone."

"Neither would Riff," Graziella added. She frowned. "But I ain't so sure about Tony…there's no tellin' what he would or wouldna done aftah the Emeralds."

"Maria believes that Tony could not control himself when he killed Bernardo," Anita said, her tone impassive.

Graziella hesitated. "How is she?"

Anita sighed. "I don't even know anymore. She won't talk to me. She won't talk to _anyone_, no matter how hard we try. Bernardo was her world, and I know that she loved Tony. I cannot imagine what she is going through, so I don't push or pull; I will let her decide how to be treated. She is quiet for now, so for now, I suppose she wants to be left alone."

"How about you?" Graziella asked in a quiet tone of voice.

Anita gave a wry scoff. "I have been better."

Graziella felt a surge of admiration for the other girl. It was odd that this girl had been her enemy, even more so than the Sharks themselves, and here they were kindred spirits. She cleared her throat, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "When's Bernardo's funeral?"

Anita sighed. "Friday."

Graziella absorbed this. "Riff'n Tony's is on Saturday."

"I know. Maria told me," Anita explained.

Graziella hesitated. "Will you be there?"

Anita shook her head. "I did not know them that well, and even then they were my enemies."

Graziella fiddled with her bracelet—the bracelet Riff had gotten for her last Christmas. She swallowed. "I…I dunno how it is fer you—I mean, you got Maria an' all—but nobody else understands what I'm goin' through or how I feel or any-a that, an' talkin' ta you…it's made me feel a helluva lot better."

The corners of Anita's mouth rose. "It feels better, doesn't it, knowing that there is someone else out there who has gone through what you have and who knows what it feels like?"

"Yeah," breathed Graziella. "It does."

* * *

Velma gave a small, forced smile to the Shark girl. "Um…hi."

"Hi," the Shark girl returned.

They both chuckled a little at the awkwardness of the situation, relieving some of the tension.

"Graziella wanted ta talk ta Anita, an' I couldn't let her go alone," Velma explained.

The other girl nodded. "I understand; none of us like to go anywhere alone."

Velma stuck out a hand. "I'm Velma, by the way."

The Puerto Rican girl stared at her for a moment before taking the proffered hand. "Consuelo," she said, her tongue rolling around the name. "You are…Ice's girl?"

Velma nodded, a little pleased that someone knew this about her. "An' yer…Pepe's girl?"

Consuelo nodded. "_Sì._ Yes." She straightened a dress hanging on the side. "Your friend, Graziella…how is she?"

Velma shrugged, fiddling with her ID bracelet. "Well, as good as she can be, I guess." Feeling that it would be polite, she added, "An' Maria an' Anita…how're they holdin' up?"

Consuelo shrugged as well. "The same. I think Anita will be all right. Maria…Maria, I am not so sure about. She never talks to anyone unless she has to. Losing two people she loved in one night cannot have been easy for her."

"Losin' one's gotta be bad enough," Velma agreed.

Consuelo ran her hand down a particularly flouncy skirt. "Ice was supposed to fight that night, wasn't he?"

Velma was surprised but said, "Well, yeah."

Consuelo turned to look at her, biting her lip before saying, "It's strange, the way it worked out. He was supposed to fight, but he is alive and Riff and Tony are dead. That is what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Velma nodded wordlessly, stunned that Consuelo could know this so easily after having met her only moments before.

Consuelo dropped her eyes. "You're lucky."

"Don't I know it," Velma said quietly. "Only now he's the captain, an', well, after Riff an' Tony…"

Consuelo nodded sympathetically. "Pepe is the new leader also; I worry for him."

Velma fiddled with the bracelet again. "Ice wants peace between us an' you. He don't like startin' fights, especially after, well…this."

Consuelo looked relieved. "Pepe also wants peace. Bernardo was one of his best friends. And he is very sorry for your Riff and Tony; he doesn't want it to happen again. He says he moved away from Puerto Rico so he would not have to watch boys die anymore, but it has followed him even into America."

Velma shook her head. "This kinda stuff _never_ happened on the East Side. But then, I don't think it's ever really happened here before, either."

The girls were quiet for a moment. Then,

"Pepe…he listens to me, more than most boys listen to their girls," Consuelo said delicately. "I don't know how much…influence you have with Ice, but maybe…maybe we can speak for the other. I know that Pepe does not know what to do next, but if we tell Pepe and Ice that the other wants peace…"

"There'll be a lot less trouble," Velma finished for her.

They smiled at each other.

"I like you," Consuelo said frankly. "I hope we will see a lot more of each other in the future."

"Yeah," Velma agreed, nodding. "I'm sure we will; if Pepe's anything like Ice, there won't be anymore fightin' between the Jets'n Sharks."

"I hope not," Consuelo said sincerely. "Sometimes I think this hate will go on always."

Velma sighed. "I know what ya mean. But maybe we can stop it here, between our guys…at least fer a little while."

Consuelo shook her head, turning to a dress. "You say a little while. Even you can see that there will always be fighting, always be hate."

"I still think we oughta _try_ an' stop it 'stead-a just sittin' back an' lettin' it happen," Velma pointed out.

Consuelo shrugged. "That's true." She paused. "Anita…she says that the boys dance and fight because they have too much feeling. Dancing and girls can only take out the feeling for so long; what happens when that doesn't become enough? They will fight again."

Velma shrugged uncomfortably. "Maybe they'll grow out of it."

Consuelo sighed. "The older ones might. But the younger ones will still fight, and they will teach other young boys to fight, and they will teach more boys, and it will never end. It happened in Puerto Rico and it happens here."

"It wasn't always like this," Velma protested weakly. "It wasn't this bad when I came here. Maybe it'll get better. Maybe this is just a freak accident."

Consuelo gave her a small smile. "You have so much hope. It's nice that you can still hope after everything that happened."

"Well, hope's 'bout the only thing any of us got left," Velma said seriously. "It's the only thing that keeps some people goin'."

Consuelo opened her mouth to reply to this, but she paused and looked up as the two other girls emerged from the backroom. Graziella was clutching a thin white shawl around her shoulders. It was a pretty thing; nearly transparent material, fringed tassels hanging from the edges, and blue flowers embroidered along the edges. Still more surprising was the fact that Graziella was _smiling_. She was really and truly smiling, something she hadn't done since Riff was alive and something no one had been quite certain she would ever do again. And what was more, she was smiling at _Anita_, the girlfriend of the late enemy of the Jets and of Riff.

"Remember," Anita was saying to the redhead, "if you ever need _anything_, you know where to find me."

"Yeah, same here," Graziella assured her earnestly. "An' thanks fer the shawl."

"It looks better on you than it ever did on me," Anita said, smiling. She glanced up at the two stunned girls and she raised an eyebrow. "Is there something on my face, Consuelo?"

Consuelo shook her head, seeming to come to herself. "Oh, no, nothing at all. I was just…" she trailed off and shook her head again. "Never mind."

Graziella took Velma's hand. "C'mon, Vel; let's go get lunch. See ya, Anita!"

"And you," Anita returned.

"_Adiós_," Consuelo called, sounding somewhat confused.

"Bye," Velma threw over her shoulder, allowing Graziella to lead her out of the store. "I take it things went well?"

Graziella gave a relieved sort of sigh. "They went _great_. It's like she could read my _mind_."

Velma smiled, glad to see her friend happy again. "What's that?" she asked, indicating the shawl.

Graziella's eyes fairly glowed as she fingered a tassel. "It's a prayer shawl. She said she wore it when she gave a prayer fa Riff…said I oughta have it."

Velma glanced anxiously at Graziella; the excitement in her tone had definitely waned, and her eyes dropped at the mention of Riff, but overall, she seemed very well-composed. "That was nice," Velma said with the caution of one in a nitroglycerin plant.

Graziella gave a small smile. "Yeah, it was." She licked her lips. "I heard you an' that other girl talkin'."

"Consuelo. Yeah, she was pretty nice," Velma said, latching onto the subject to draw Graziella's attention away from Riff. "Her boyfriend's Pepe; he's the new leader-a the Sharks now."

"So she's kinda like you," Graziella said, glancing at Velma.

Velma chuckled dryly. "Yeah, we kinda found that out. Think I'll be seein' her a lot more in the future."

Graziella was quiet for a moment. Then, without any warning whatsoever, she asked, "Vel, d'ya think Tony knew what he was doin' when he killed Bernardo?"

The question took Velma by surprise. "I…I dunno," she answered honestly. She cocked her head. "Why? You think he woulda?"

Graziella sighed. "I dunno. Tony…he just…_changed_ aftah the Emeralds. He wasn't the same guy."

Velma shrugged. "I didn't know him as well as you did, an' I honestly couldn't say. Everyone says he did it without thinkin', that he lost it when he saw Riff die."

Graziella was quiet for another moment before saying, "Y'know, Anita knows Riff wouldna killed anybody." She sounded proud of the fact.

"Oh?" Velma wasn't quite sure how to respond to this statement.

"I told her I know Bernardo didn't mean ta kill Riff," Graziella went on. "It was an accident."

Velma was starting to see what Graziella was getting at. This was her way of trying to show Velma that she trusted Anita and, therefore, trusted the Sharks. This was her way of saying that she forgave Bernardo for taking her Riff away from her and she had made her peace with the past and wanted that peace to endure. That, and she wanted Velma to agree with her, wanted Velma to forgive Bernardo just as she had and put aside the past. Forgive and forget.

If Graziella and Anita could do it, Velma decided, anyone could.


	19. One Life

A/N: I don't really have much of anything to say to introduce this chapter; I suppose I could ramble about my ending high school career, but that would be annoying to anyone not me, so I won't do that. Instead, I'll just say that this chapter was one of the harder ones to write, so I apologize if it isn't up to par. And this isn't a ploy to get people to go, "What are you talking about, it's great!" I'm just honestly telling you it was harder to write and isn't one of those chapters I'm just absolutely thrilled to post.

Enormous thanks to my sweethearts: **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies**!

* * *

"…an' that's what really happened, Clarice," Big Deal was saying, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically pleading tone.

Big Deal had come calling at the window that night, and at the urging of Bernice, Clarice had patiently sat at her window and allowed him to explain his side of the story from the fire escape. She had hardly looked at him the entire time, keeping her eyes on her lap, and she did not look at him now. This worried Big Deal—when something upset Clarice badly enough, she didn't let it go, and he was afraid this was one of those times.

"Clarice?" he asked tentatively.

Clarice heaved a sigh. "What?"

Big Deal swallowed. "Ain'tcha gonna say anything?"

Clarice turned her head away from him, pretending to become interested in something inside her room. "Whaddya want me ta say? That everything's all okay now? 'Cause I don't wanna hafta lie."

Big Deal ran a hand through his hair. "I want ya ta say…I dunno, _somethin'_, stead-a just sittin' there like ya ain't listenin' ta me."

"I am listenin'," Clarice said patiently.

Big Deal made a noise of frustration. "Well, d'ya forgive me?"

Clarice pointedly kept her face turned away from him. "I dunno if I can."

Big Deal was starting to lose his patience. He was crazy about Clarice, and he freely admitted it, but she was driving him crazy in more ways than one right now. "Clarice, whaddya _want_ from me?"

Clarice turned to fix him with a piercing look, agitated that the guy she had always thought was so smart was having so much trouble figuring it out. "I _want_ ya ta leave me alone!" she snapped, dropping her legs on the inside of the window and standing up to move away.

Big Deal grabbed her wrist, effectively stopping her. "Clarice…"

She turned to look at him, waiting breathlessly. _Please don't disappoint me_, she thought. _Don't be like Gee-Tar, waiting like a sap. __**Do**__ something. _

Big Deal glanced down at where he had grabbed her wrist and immediately felt stricken. After working so hard to assure his girlfriend (or was it ex-girlfriend?) that he hadn't meant any of that crap in Doc's, that he was still the same guy, he had to go and yank her back like that. There was pretty well no way in hell that she was going to take him back _now_. Defeated, he dropped her wrist.

And Clarice, disappointed that he would give up on her so easily, slammed her window.

* * *

A-Rab groaned as he rolled over for what felt like the four hundredth time that night. He couldn't sleep, and for some reason, Minnie's words from earlier that afternoon kept playing over and over in his head.

_You'd be surprised what a heartfelt apology can do._

Yeah, like give him a black eye.

A-Rab snorted and glared at the chipped paint of his ceiling. A-Rab wasn't normally the kind of guy to get worked up over something a dumb broad had said, especially little wannabes like Anybodys. Which was exactly why he couldn't figure out why the hell her words _were_ bothering him. In the past, he'd met all her sneers and insults with sneers and insults of his own, never thinking twice about it. But now…now, it was bugging him, and he was about to go crazy.

He ran a hand through his curly blond hair. If it were any other chick, he'd just apologize, and that would be that. But Anybodys was not just any other chick (a fact she had made sure to impress on them from the start), and she would just as soon knock him out as forgive him. Still, they could not keep up this awkward avoiding each other forever, especially since Ice seemed to want her in the Jets, and something would _have_ to be done.

A-Rab sat up with an irritated growl; for a tomboy who prided herself on being as un-feminine as possible, Anybodys was just as hard to figure out as any other girl—maybe even harder.

Throwing the sheets off himself, A-Rab swung out of bed and pulled on the discarded pair of jeans and rumpled t-shirt he had tossed onto the floor. He wrestled his feet into a pair of socks and shoes and grabbed his jacket before moving down the fire escape. It was a damn stupid thing to be doing, really, but if he wasn't going to be sleeping, he might as well do something. Like get his ass handed to him.

Scowling, A-Rab made his way to Baby John's place, moving with more force than was probably necessary and occasionally hawking a wad of spit at anything that looked remotely annoying. He hoisted himself up the fire escape to Baby John's third-story apartment and, seeing that the window was open, stuck his head in. Baby John was sleeping heavily, but he jerked and nearly fell out of bed as A-Rab hissed at him.

"A-Rab, ya scared me!" Baby John whispered loudly, sheepishly sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," A-Rab said in a tone that indicated he was not at all sorry. "Look, I need ya ta tell me where Anybodys lives."

Baby John furrowed his brow. "Why d'ya wanna know that?"

A-Rab gave an agitated sigh. "Just…just because, okay?"

Baby John smirked. "You wanna apologize, don'tcha?"

A-Rab scowled. "What's it to ya?"

Baby John's smirk remained firmly in place. "Must be really botherin' ya, if ya wanna know in the middle-a the night."

"Least I'm doin' it!" A-Rab snapped. "You could come with me an' do the same."

"I already apologized," Baby John said in a very smug voice. "She told me not to, on account of it wasn't my fault."

A-Rab swore. "Look, just spill, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Baby John said, and A-Rab had the urge to smack that smug little smirk off of his face.

Twenty minutes later found A-Rab in the redlight district, squinting in the dull lamplight at building numbers. A few girls in flashy clothes and rouged cheeks followed him with their smoky eyes, but only for a few moments—they were no strangers to the streets, and they knew that he had no money on him. A-Rab vaguely wondered if any of these painted women were Sissy; several of them had red hair.

He stopped in front of a building and, after reading over the number again, crept inside. The front desk was empty, so A-Rab, groaning at the "Out of Order" sign on the elevator, headed up the stairs. It was no wonder Anybodys was so skinny, he decided; you couldn't walk up and down these things on a daily basis and not be in awful good shape.

He happily pushed through the door on the tenth floor (although it felt like the twentieth) and moved down the hall, silently counting as he passed the faded bronze numbers on the doors. He stopped in front of 10E and, taking a deep breath (and praying he would walk away alive), raised his fist and knocked on the door.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he knocked on the door, but what he was _not ex_pecting was for Anybodys to actually open the door, wearing a wife-beater (oh, the irony of _her_ wearing something with that name) and a pair of blue men's boxers. Her short hair was tousled and her eyes were small with sleep, and A-Rab couldn't help noticing that she looked a hell of a lot, well, _softer_ than usual; and for a moment, she did not look like the Anybodys who had proven to be a royal pain in the ass for the past few years.

This illusion did not last long, however, for her expression quickly turned to a scowl when she saw him. Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, which, A-Rab noticed with a start, was not quite as flat as he had always thought it was. But he really shouldn't be thinking about that now, as Anybodys looked as if she might cheerfully kill him, regardless of where his eyes rested. "The hell're _you_ doin' here?"

A-Rab took a deep breath. "I know ya said not ta say I'm sorry if I don't mean it, but I been doin' a lotta thinkin', an', well, I really _am_ sorry; I ain't just sayin' it because I oughta."

Anybodys looked at him suspiciously, leaning against the doorframe. "I guess ya mean it, since ya came all the way down here an' woke me up at this ungodly hour."

A-Rab shifted uncomfortably. "Well…yeah."

There was an awkward silence that Anybodys finally, mercifully broke. "I guess ya expect me ta forgive ya now."

"Well…that would be nice," A-Rab admitted.

Anybodys quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah…I don't think so."

A-Rab whined. "But _Anybodys_, I really mean it! I freakin' woke up Baby John ta find out where ya lived!"

"Aw, why didja hafta wake him up? He's got trouble sleepin'," Anybodys chastised him.

A-Rab frowned. "When'd you two get so buddy-buddy?"

"A lotta things changed," Anybodys said quietly. She heaved a sigh, shifting her hips so that her weight rested on the other foot. "I don't hate ya anymore, A-Rab."

A-Rab looked at her hopefully. "Really?"

Anybodys shook her head. "Nah. Now I _really_ hate ya." She moved to slam the door, but A-Rab was quick and threw a shoulder in the way, grunting as he forced it to stay open. Anybodys's voice shook as she spoke. "If you come in here, I'll fuckin' kill you. Don't think I won't; we keep a knife right by the door."

"Yeah, well, I can see why, in a shithole like this," A-Rab said very seriously. There was no taunting in his tone, no callous implications.

Anybodys sneered, releasing her hold on the door. "Why the hell d'you care?"

"'Cause it ain't right fer a girl," A-Rab snapped, annoyed that she had used that word—_care_. He rubbed the shoulder that had hit the door.

Anybodys glared. "Oh, but I guess it's okay for a guy?"

"It ain't right fer _anybody_," A-Rab amended.

"Aw, don't pretend like you give a shit!" Anybodys snapped. "Just go home, A-Rab. I ain't forgivin' ya an' I ain't _gonna_. Ya dig?"

"Anybodys—"

"My sister'll be home soon," Anybodys went on. "If she sees you here, she'll kill ya, an' I won't stop her. Now make like gum an' _blow_." And with that, she wrenched the door shut.

A-Rab stared at the door for a moment before swearing and storming out of the building and away from the red lights of Manhattan.

* * *

"Hello, A-Rab!"

A-Rab winced at the sound of Minnie's voice; it was just too…_happy_ for his liking, especially with the headache he had woken up with. "Hi, Minnie."

Minnie took a seat beside him with an excited look. "Johnny told me about what happened last night—well, I guess this morning. Did you really apologize?"

A-Rab sighed, massaging his aching head. "Yeah."

"And did she forgive you?" Minnie ventured in a hushed tone.

A-Rab shook his head.

This was obviously not the answer Minnie was expecting, because there was silence for a moment. Then, "But…_why_?"

"Because she hates me," A-Rab informed her tonelessly.

"Oh, A-Rab, I'm sure she doesn't _hate_ you—"

"She told me she really hated me. Those were her exact words." A-Rab yawned. God, but he was tired.

Minnie reached out a hand and delicately laid it over his. "I'm sorry."

A-Rab jerked, surprised and a little unnerved by the contact. "What're you sorry for? We've always hated each other; this ain't any different from the past."

"Except now you _don't_ hate her," Minnie said quietly.

A-Rab stared at her before laughing. "'Course I still do! We practically made a vow in third grade that we would hate each other fa the rest-a our lives!" He frowned. "Actually, we _did_ make a vow…I think there was a plastic knife involved…"

Minnie sighed. "Oh, A-Rab, when are you two going to put aside your differences and just be friends?"

A-Rab stared at her. "Um. Never."

"You obviously care enough about her to apologize to her, and she obviously cares enough about you that what happened shook her terribly," Minnie said reasonably. "It looks to me like you're just upset that _she's_ upset, and you're willing to do anything to make it right. Which is really very sweet of you."

A-Rab gaped. "I…I could care less how that little creep _feels_ about _anything_! I only apologized 'cause it was the, the decent thing ta do!"

"You and Johnny are the only two boys who have apologized to her. Don't you think that means something?" Minnie pressed.

A-Rab snorted. "Yeah, means the other guys don't wanna lose their ba—their…body parts."

Before Minnie could form an appropriate response to this, the door opened and Baby John came in, blushing as he always did whenever he saw Minnie. "Hi, Minnie! Hi, A-Rab!"

"Hi, Johnny," Minnie returned, blushing as well. "We're going to have lunch," she informed A-Rab. Turning to Baby John, she said, "A-Rab was just telling me about his feelings for Anybodys."

"I don't have—" A-Rab began to protest, but Baby John interrupted him.

"Oh, yeah, how did that go?"

A-Rab growled. "Why does everyone wanna know?"

"I was just _askin'_," Baby John muttered in a hurt voice.

A-Rab growled again. "She said she hated me, okay? Happy now? Can we drop it?"

"Ouch, I'm sorry," Baby John said sincerely. "Want me ta talk to her for ya?"

"_No, I do not_."

"Okay, okay! Ya don't hafta get so _upset_!" Baby John yipped. "C'mon, Minnie."

"Bye, A-Rab!" Minnie called cheerfully over her shoulder. "I hope you and Anybodys work things out!"

A-Rab rolled his eyes. He said it once and he'd say it again: Minnie was a sweet girl and all, but she just didn't have a damn _clue_.

* * *

"Anita, are you coming?"

Anita glanced up at where Francisca and Consuelo were lingering at the backdoor. She shook her head. "You go on." She smiled to herself; she had received visitors for the past two days and was wondering if she would have any more.

Shrugging, the two girls pushed open the door and left, chattering in Spanish. Anita pulled out her sack lunch and began to unwrap her sandwich. She glanced at the clock and then back at her lunch—if someone was coming, they should arrive at any moment now.

As if on cue, she heard the front door open and a born-and-raised New Yorker accent call out, "Hello?"

Anita did not bother to get up. "I'm back here."

Anybodys appeared at the entrance, looking flushed and catching her breath; obviously, she had hurried here. "Hi," she breathed.

Anita smiled. "What have you come for today? Graziella came to visit me yesterday, you know."

Anybodys took a seat on a stool. "I need ta ask yer advice about somethin'," she said without hesitation.

Anita glanced up at her for a moment before giving a nod. "All right."

Anybodys hesitated, gripping the material of her dungarees bunched up around her knees. "The night…the night it all happened, I told A-Rab I never wanted ta talk ta him or anything ever again. I told him ta stay away from me."

"Who is A-Rab?" Anita asked patiently.

Anybodys ducked her head. "The blond," she murmured.

Anita nodded tightly, knowing just _which_ blond she was referring to. "I see. So?"

Anybodys bit her lip. "So…he came an' found me last night. Well, really early this mornin', actually, I think it was around four…anyway, he said he was sorry, an' that he meant it, an' I guess he must-a, if he came all the way ta my place at four in the mornin'."

Anita shrugged, uncertain of just what exactly it was Anybodys wanted to hear. "That was…kind of him."

Anybodys exhaled loudly. "Yeah, but…I don't think I _can_ forgive him. Or any of 'em, fa that matter, but mostly him."

Anita gazed at her for a moment. "What is it you want me to say?"

Anybodys fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I…I guess I want ya ta tell me what ta do." She sounded so lost and uncertain—a far cry from the tomboy who had been so sure of herself just a few days ago.

Anita considered this. "Do you _want_ to forgive him?"

"No," Anybodys said at once. "Not aftah that, an' not aftah he acted like it was no big deal."

Anita was quiet for a moment. Then, "Have the other boys apologized to you?"

Anybodys snorted as she shook her head. "Nah. Just Baby John, an' that don't even count, 'cause he didn't do nuthin' in the first place." She was babbling now and she knew it.

Anita raised her eyebrows for a brief moment as she glanced down at her sandwich. "Well, I would certainly think about it, if he was the first one to apologize who needed to."

"Yeah," sighed Anybodys, flopping back against the chair and dropping her arms to hang down at her sides. "But that's the problem, ain't it? I been doin' _too much_ thinkin'."

Anita had to hide the wry smile threatening to make its way onto her face. "Were you friends before that night?"

Anybodys's resounding snort was answer enough, but she decided to elaborate with words. "You kiddin'? We _hated_ each other; always have. He's the biggest idiot ta ever walk in the West Side."

"It's strange, then, that he was the first one to apologize," Anita said in an innocent tone.

"Well, yeah, it is," Anybodys agreed, not seeing what was so _blatantly_ obvious to Anita.

"He must feel very sorry to go all the way to your house at four in the morning to apologize to someone who hates him and he used to hate," Anita commented as mildly as possible.

Anybodys frowned as she straightened up. "You think I oughta forgive him?"

Anita couldn't help it; she laughed. "You sound as if that's the most disgusting thing you've ever heard!"

"Well, considerin' it's _A-Rab_, it is," the younger girl said darkly.

"Then it sounds as if your mind is made up."

Anybodys shook her head. "But it _ain't_. I hate him, always have, always will, an' what he did ta you was just…I just can't forgive somethin' like that. But then he seems like he's _really_ sorry, more'n I ever thought he could be, an' I just…I dunno what ta do."

Anita looked at her with something akin to pity. "Forgiving is never easy to do." She knew this better than most; she had been forced to come to terms with the fact that the girl who was like her sister had taken Bernardo's murderer into her arms and into her bed, that she had loved him and loved him still, loved him more than anything in the world—even more than Bernardo. "If it was easy, there would be no need for it. But sometimes we just have to put the past behind us and move on. You said the other day that we can't stop what happens, that we might as well move on."

Anybodys was quiet as she considered this. She _had_ said that, but she had meant it under a completely different context…or had she? "But…I…aw, shit."

Anita laughed again. "Maybe you're not ready for it just yet…but you will be someday. And if this A-Rab is anything like you've described him, it will make him feel much better."

"Aw, he just wants me ta say it's okay so we can go back ta hatin' each other," Anybodys dismissed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, why don't you?" Anita suggested, as if this were the simplest thing in the world.

Anybodys stared at her. For a chick, Anita sure could make sense.

"That…ain't a bad idea," Anybodys finally admitted.

Anita smiled. "Why don't you sleep on it?"

"Yeah, maybe," Anybodys murmured, her mind spinning. She rose slowly. "Think I'm gonna skip out now…"

"Here; before you go, take this," Anita said, holding out an orange.

Anybodys smiled wryly and took it before darting out the door and onto the streets.


	20. Now It Begins

A/N: Wow. So I am finished with high school forever now. Well, I mean, I still have to walk across the stage in my garbage bag and heels (oh, how snazzy we will all look), obviously, but summer has officially begun for me. So…wow. So to celebrate, I'm updating a day earlier than usual, and will probably not adhere to a very strict updating schedule anymore, heh.

Also, this chapter is primarily about Bernice; I didn't intend for that to happen...it just kind of did, heh.

Huge thanks to **Vee** and **Meg** for their reviews, and also to Lauren for allowing me to blast the radio and throw my hands in the air like a loser in her convertible; friends like these are one in a million :)

* * *

Clarice closed the door with a sigh; her mother and Bernice were fighting again. Loudly. Clarice knew she wouldn't be allowed out of the house as long as this was going on; in fact, approaching even her neutral father might get her sucked into the middle of the conflict. And really, who would she go see, anyway? Hanging out with the others had lost most of its appeal, and if it was a place the Jets frequented, Big Deal might be there, which meant that option was definitely _out_. In any case, she doubted her parents would let her out by herself, especially given recent circumstances.

Clarice sighed as she flopped onto her bed. She couldn't phone Minnie, as she was out having lunch with Baby John, and would (hopefully) be out with him awhile. Phoning Graziella to distract herself seemed rather selfish and rude, so that was out. She had no desire to call up Pauline; that almost never ended well. And Anybodys, well…no one was quite sure where Anybodys stood now. Was she a Jet? A Jet Girl? Still a wannabe? Or a complete nobody? It hurt Clarice's head to think about it.

She sat up as an idea came to mind. _Velma_. Velma was the _perfect_ person to go to at such a time. But would she be with Ice? Well, that was just a chance Clarice would have to take; it wasn't like she had anything better to do, anyway. She snatched up her phone and dialed Velma's number.

"Hello?" Velma didn't sound sleepy or annoyed or distracted, which Clarice took as a good sign.

"Velma? It's Clarice."

"Hiya, Clarice," Velma said, her tone warming at once. "What's shakin'?"

"Eh, not much; Bernice an' Mamaare goin' at it again," Clarice sighed.

In the kitchen, Bernice could be heard shouting, "Two-a my buddies just _died_; why the hell do I hafta see the doctor tomorrah?"

"_Don't_ use that language, young lady," Mrs. Gambini remonstrated. "It's highly unbecoming on you, as is that attitude. You were scheduled for a doctor appointment, and unless your mourning is crippling, you _will_ go!"

"I can hear it," Velma said delicately.

Clarice groaned. "She's a nightmare, honestly. She's been pickin' fights with Mama an' _Papi_ ever since…well, y'know."

"Yeah…I guess I can understand that," Velma said sympathetically. "How're you holdin' up?"

Clarice shrugged, despite the fact that Velma couldn't see her. "Well, as good as a girl can be, under the circumstances." She paused. "How's Graziella doin'?"

Velma sighed. "I dunno. She _seems_ okay, but I think it's eatin' her up inside." She was quiet for a moment before saying, "She went ta visit Anita yesterday. Y'know…Bernardo's girl."

"I remember," Clarice said quietly. "How'd that go?"

"I wasn't with her the whole time; she went ta the back-a the store ta see her while I stayed in the front. I talked ta Pepe's girl, Consuelo."

"_Really_?" Clarice asked, intrigued.

"Yeah…she was…well…a lot like _me_. It was kinda weird." There was a pause. "I remember we kept glarin' at each other an' showin' off ta each other at the dance. It's like it was a different life or somethin'." There was another pause. "Anyway. I guess it went well fa Graz, because she an' Anita was smilin' when they came out, an' Anita gave her a really nice prayer shawl."

Clarice sat up, her back as straight as a pin. "Her _prayer shawl_? _That's_ a pretty big leap, don'tcha think?"

Velma sighed, causing a rush of static to go over the line. "I just dunno anymore, Clarice. Graziella's…changed. I just…I dunno what's she's goin' through. I ain't never lost anybody like that."

"Me neither," Clarice whispered. "I wanna do somethin' for her, but I dunno what. Whenever somebody in our family dies, we always make food, but that's 'cause we're Italian, an' all Italians do is eat. This is _Graziella_. What're you s'posed ta do fer that?"

"I guess…just…be there," Velma said contemplatively. "Graz ain't one ta hide things…if she needs somethin', she'll tell us." There was a pause. "I think."

Clarice bit her lip, remembering the days in junior high when Graziella had drastically lost weight and shrugged off her and Bernice's concerned queries; they weren't idiots, and they knew there was a reason that their best friend disappeared to the bathroom every time she ate anything. "Look, Velma…about that…"

Bernice came in the room and slammed the door, letting out a little shriek as she did so. "_Figlio di puttana_!" she hissed, locking the door.

Clarice winced. "Vel, I'm gonna hafta call ya back."

"So I heard," Velma said, sounding slightly amused. "I'll see ya."

"Bye," Clarice sighed, hanging up. She turned to Bernice. "What's wrong this time?"

"I am adopted. There is no way I belong ta this family," Bernice snipped, flopping back on her bed.

"I wonder what happened ta the real twin?" Clarice asked with mock-thoughtfulness.

Bernice threw a pillow at her. "Can ya believe it? Ma an' dad want me ta go ta the doctor tomorrah. Tomorrah! So soon aftah Riff 'n' Tony!"

"It's just a doctor's appointment," Clarice said quietly.

Bernice glared at her. "Yer hopeless." She turned to glare at her wall.

Clarice, shrugging, picked up her magazine and began to flip through it. She was quite surprised when, after about ten minutes, Bernice suddenly burst out with, "They're doin' blood work, so I don't even get ta eat breakfast!"

Clarice hid a smile.

* * *

Not long after Velma hung up with Clarice, she heard a familiar rapping of knuckles on her window. She beamed as Ice climbed in and wrapped herself up in her arms. "Hi," she breathed.

"Hi," Ice chuckled. "How ya been?"

"Fine," Velma said, sitting on the bed and pulling him to sit beside her.

"Heard ya went ta see Anita yesterday."

Velma's heart skipped a beat. "Well, I went with _Graz_," she said emphatically. "She wanted ta talk ta Anita, an' I couldn't just let her traipse in an' outta PR Territory, could I?"

"No, guess not," Ice murmured, cocking his head as he looked at her.

Velma wondered if she was in trouble or not—there was no way of telling with him. She cleared her throat, glancing down at her lap. "I talked ta one-a the PR girls…Consuelo. She's Pepe's girl."

Ice didn't say anything, so Velma continued hurriedly, "We got ta talkin', an'…well…she said Pepe don't want any more trouble…the Sharks want peace, an' I know _you_ want peace, an' most-a the Jets've gotta want peace, an', well, I know how ya are, an' ya'll be wantin' ta talk things over with Pepe—"

Ice pressed a finger to her lips, effectively silencing her. His brow was knit in confusion. "Vee, what's buggin' ya? I know _somethin'_ is."

Velma's eyes dropped to her lap again. "I just…Consuelo…she don't think peace'll last very long. An', Ice, Riff was the _last_ person we thought was gonna die, an' if anything happened ta _you_…"

Ice gripped her hands, the warmth of his own hands pressing into hers. "Vee. That ain't gonna happen, okay? I don't want fightin' anymore than you do, an' if Consuelo's right about Pepe, there won't be anymore fightin' between the Jets 'n' Sharks—not as long as I'm captain."

Velma managed a weak smile. "I worry about ya sometimes, Ice."

Ice heaved a sigh. "I know. But I swear, Vee, I ain't gonna give ya reason to anymore."

And Velma knew he would keep his word.

* * *

Graziella hesitated in front of the cathedral—she had been dragged here every Sunday and Christmas Eve and Easter of her life until she was sixteen and allowed to stay home. And yet…she felt like a stranger here. Sure, she still attended weddings and visitations, but that was different than actually sitting in the chapel and praying to God.

"Oh, what the hell," she muttered, wincing almost immediately. "Sorry, God." She pushed open one enormous door and gave a tight smile to the nun walking by. Taking a deep breath, Graziella moved into the chapel, abashedly aware of the loud echoing noises her heels were making. She dipped her fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross on her forehead, shivering as the water made contact with her skin. Then she unfolded the shawl she had been carrying and draped it carefully over her head and shoulders.

A few other people were in the chapel, heads bent and hands folded in prayer, and Graziella slipped into the front pew to the right, kneeling on the prayer cushion and clasping her hands. She bent her head and, taking a deep breath, began to murmur a prayer she had been taught as a small child.

"_God our Father,  
Your power brings us to birth,  
Your providence guides our lives,  
and by Your command we return to dust."_

Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. Womb to tomb. Birth to earth. Sperm to worm. That's what Riff and Tony had always said to each other. They had lived as brothers and died as brothers—they might've been born as brothers for all the love they had for each other. _Love_. No matter how much Graziella had loved—and still loved—Riff, he had always loved Tony more. It seemed like a heavy price to pay—knowing you were always second-best to the guy you loved with your heart and soul—but it was a measure of how much Graziella loved Riff that she hadn't minded.

"_Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,  
their lives change but do not end.  
I pray in hope for my family,  
relatives and friends,  
and for all the dead known to You alone."_

If you had told Graziella Spanella one week ago that Riff Lorton was going to die on Saturday night, she would've told you you were a nut job who needed to be committed. Riff was the most _alive_ person she or anybody else knew; it was never a party until Riff arrived, and anywhere Riff arrived was a party. Everyone loved him and he loved everyone; you just couldn't know Riff Lorton and not love him. He could suggest jumping off the Empire State Building and everyone would do it because he made it seem like such a great idea. Hell, Riff probably _would've_ done something like that, knowing him. He was such a little kid underneath it all…too young to have died and gone to Christ.

"_In company with Christ,  
Who died and now lives,  
may they rejoice in Your kingdom,  
where all our tears are wiped away.  
Unite us together again in one family,  
to sing Your praise forever and ever."_

Everyone (well, her parents and aunts and uncles and pastor) kept trying to tell her that he was in a better place now, a place without pain or sorrow or suffering, and she supposed that she should be happy for his soul now. But she just _couldn't_. Riff had been hers, and now he had been taken from her. What had she done to make God take him from her? She hadn't been so very selfish; she had always relented him to Tony and his Jets, hadn't she? She had always understood that the Jets came before girls and she had never put up a big fight about it.

She had loved Riff, loved him more than she ever believed possible…and now she only loved a memory and a lifeless cadaver. She shivered. It was so hard putting _Riff_ and _lifeless_ together; it was practically sacrilege. Riff, her Riff, had always been so _full_ of life. Dead. God.

No, she couldn't be happy for Riff, not when he had been taken from her like this. She had made her peace with God and even with Bernardo…but that certainly didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

"_Amen."_

* * *

Bernice pressed her arms over her rumbling stomach as she sat in the waiting room. Her mother, unfortunately, was sitting beside her, flipping through a homemaker's magazine calmly. Nearby sat a man who, at five second intervals, snorted up what sounded like a large and rather disgusting collection of phlegm. A girl of about thirteen or so was sitting beside her own mother and looking around with wide eyes, muttering to herself, "This is _so_ humiliating…"

Bernice did not want to be here right now. It wasn't just the fact that the people around her were annoying and she wanted to get away from them—she did not want to be at a doctor's appointment because doctor's appointments were normal, and right now, life was not supposed to be normal.

Five days ago, two boys she had known for years died. Was that normal? She didn't think so. She'd been crazy about Tony for quite awhile; in fact, he'd been the first guy she'd ever _been_ with. He hadn't taken much notice of her after that—not that she had forgotten the stars he'd made her see. And even though she'd moved on to other guys, there was still a tiny part of her that kind of missed the stars Tony made her see.

She'd been with Riff, too, before he and Graziella were serious—not that Graziella ever found out. Friends don't betray each other, but assuming one friend _does_, there's no reason to make it known…is there? Bernice shifted uneasily in her seat. Riff had told her, after, that there was no need to mention either one of their trysts to Graziella—it wasn't exactly lying if they just never told her, was it? Bernice had shrugged it off at the time; she wasn't a hopeless romantic who held out for the right guy. Riff was just as good as the next guy; it didn't make a difference, so long as she had one when she wanted one.

It all made her feel very callous now. Riff had either been a warm body or the guy she had to take orders from or her friend's boyfriend, depending on the circumstances, and she'd never given it much thought. And now…now, she regretted thinking so carelessly of him. Pauline had made her sentiments on the matter known; she thought Bernice was being a big hypocrite for suddenly feeling so upset about Riff when she'd never been all _that_ close to him when he was alive. If it had been anyone else, Bernice would've thought the same thing…but it is a truth universally acknowledged that you usually don't realize how much you care about something until it's gone.

"Bernice, sit up straight, please."

Bernice glared at her mother and sat up only a little straighter. Again, she was being forced to return to normalcy. Why did she have to be here, waiting for a stupid test on her blood and being told to sit up straight like she was some wayward five-year-old? It had been less than a week, and her parents were acting as if nothing had ever happened. Most of the adults were, she noticed, except for Doc; he spent most of his time shut away in his flat. That was the trouble with adults, she thought; they didn't understand. It wasn't that they _couldn't_ understand, either; it was more that they _wouldn't_ understand, that they didn't _want_ to.

Adults were such narrow-minded people. No, not narrow-minded; just plain stupid. You'd never know they'd been seventeen before from the way they treated kids like Bernice. Everything that was serious to her was just shrugged off as a passing fancy, and this, for some reason, was no different. She felt a flash of hatred for her mother. Her mother, who had never known hardship, never known what it was like to lose two boys, one of whom you had lost your innocence to. Bernice resisted a snort; her mother wouldn't understand _that_ at _all_.

Bernice's sneering self-satisfaction diminished as she remembered the reason she was furious with her mother in the first place. Her mother, who could never and would never understand what it was like to be a seventeen-year-old girl who had had part of her already crumbling world ripped out from underneath her.

"Bernice?"

Bernice looked up at the nurse standing in the doorway. She was pleasantly plump, blonde, and smiling, looking at Bernice with saccharine expectancy. Yet another ignorant adult. Bernice heaved a sigh and rose; if life was going to move on, she might as well move on with it.

* * *

With the blood work done and her hunger sated, Bernice, with her mother's most reluctant permission, headed to Doc's. Doc was actually there, as were Minnie and Pauline. Bernice and Pauline kissed the air beside each other's cheeks as Bernice took a seat between them.

"What's shakin'?" she asked.

The two girls shrugged.

"Not much," Pauline said, taking a sip of her soda. "Just been hangin' around here. Pretty slow day, looks like."

"Mother's taking me out to go shopping for a black dress later," Minnie volunteered. "I don't have any."

"Yeah, me neither," Pauline sighed. "Never had ta go to a funeral before."

"I have," Bernice said glumly. "It's hard ta avoid when yer Italian."

"I thought you were Sicilian?" Minnie said, furrowing her brow.

"Sicilian _is_ Italian, sweetie," Bernice reminded her gently.

"Is Sicily like a state, then?" Minnie asked, her brow knitting as she tried to piece it together.

"Don't strain yerself, hon," Pauline warned in the sweet voice she reserved for Minnie.

Bernice dropped her chin onto her hand, watching the two girls continue to talk about buying black dresses and shoes and other things that teenage girls cannot help talking about. Pauline and Minnie were acting like best friends now, their minds on similar tracks—and yet they were as different as could be.

Minnie was the youngest Jet Girl, as well as the sweetest and the most innocent. She'd never been kissed, and she _certainly_ hadn't done half the things Pauline had; Pauline had slept with every Jet but Ice and Baby John, and not just once in awhile; she would die if she did not have a warm body at _least_ once a week. Minnie was stuck on Baby John, as he was on her, and the other guys knew better than to make a move on her—after all, she was like their baby sister. And Pauline…Pauline went after every guy she possibly could, and that still wasn't enough. Sure, she had her favorites, but she was _never_ picky when it came to men.

Bernice wasn't entirely certain that she had ever been like Minnie—maybe when she was eight, perhaps, but that had been almost ten years ago. She had started out just like all the other Jet Girls; she had befriended Graziella, flirted with a Jet (or three), and then she became one of their girls. Pauline had gone farther than anybody, though, and no one would ever go farther than she had. Bernice often wondered if she was on her way to becoming a second Pauline; she was not terribly picky about which Jet's arm she was on, and Pauline didn't care _whose_ arm she was on, just as long as it was a _he_.

In fact…the differences between Bernice and Pauline were few and far between. The only discrepancies Bernice noticed were that a) Pauline had probably been with more guys than Bernice (and had been with them more _times_ than Bernice had), and b) while Bernice waited for boys to come _to_ her, Pauline unashamedly chased after every guy she could. Bernice felt a lump in her throat; Pauline had always been the girl that nobody wanted to become, and comparing a girl to her was as bad as outright calling her a tramp, maybe even worse. Bernice didn't mind people saying she was easy, because she was…but she wasn't sure she wanted to be another _Pauline_.

Of course, it wasn't like she could take the Minnie route or anything; it was too late for that. And, to be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure she _wanted_ a nun-like existence; sure, Minnie was wonderful and all, but Bernice just wasn't ready to give up boys.

She sighed, drumming her fingernails on the tabletop. Between Pauline and Minnie, Bernice decided, she was just one of those grey shades.

* * *

With Minnie gone and Doc in his flat again and the sky a roiling mass of restless grey clouds, Bernice and Pauline decided to head home. They said goodbye at their usual corner and went on their separate ways, shoes clacking against the asphalt as they hurried to avoid the impending rain. Bernice was drawing near her building when someone called out to her.

She turned, eyes widening as she took in Big Deal's rather haggard appearance. From a distance, he seemed all right, but as he drew up closer to her, she could see that he had forgotten to shave in a few spots that morning, his hair looked as if he had run his hands through it a few times instead of washing and combing it, his clothes were rumpled, and there were bags under his eyes.

"What happened ta _you_?" she asked, never one to beat around the bush.

Big Deal cast her a miserable glance. Not that that was much different from how he looked already. "Bernice, I gotta know: does Clarice hate me?"

Bernice stared at him for a long moment before a look of disgust came over her face. "Oh my God, ya sound like Gee-Tar!"

"I don't care," Big Deal croaked. "I need ta know. She won't talk ta me, won't even look at me—"

"Well, I can't blame her, when ya look like that," Bernice said bluntly. "Big Deal…ya gotta get a grip."

"Bernice. I can't sleep. I can't eat. This is the worst feelin' in the world," Big Deal informed her, and he did indeed look as if he'd been to hell and back. "I'd take her flirtin' with Gee-Tar over this _any_ day."

Bernice scoffed. "Yer pathetic. She's still crazy as ever about ya, even though she's tryin' not ta be." She looked him up an' down. "Get some sleep; ya need it." She turned to go.

"What do I hafta do ta make it up to her?" Big Deal asked, his voice taking on a rather unpleasant whining quality. "I'm crazy about her, an' she's never been this mad at me before…I'll do anything; what does she want me ta do ta prove it to her?"

Bernice whirled around, her impatience clearly showing. "She _wants_ ya ta prove yer crazy about her. She _don't_ want ya ta roll over like a kicked dog an' give up on her. _That's_ what she wants," she said in a harsh tone. "God. Thought you'd've figured it out by now, seein' as how youse two are _soul mates_ or somethin'."

"But she keeps tellin' me ta leave her alone—"

"Big Deal." Bernice was getting pissed off now; for a hunk, he sure could be a moron sometimes. "She's a _girl_; a-_course_ she _says_ that. The thing with us girls is…ya gotta ignore everything we say."

Big Deal blinked. "I have never heard a girl say that in my entire _life_, an' I got two sisters."

"Well, most girls don't like admittin' we're idiots, but we are," Bernice said glumly. "Just…look, go home, get some sleep, take a damn _shower_, clean up, an' wait."

Big Deal looked at her disbelievingly. "_Wait_?"

Bernice rolled her eyes. "Yes, _wait_. If she still loves ya, she'll come ta _you_. An' if she don't…" She hesitated. "Well, then, she's a moron." She snorted. "I can't believe ya still want her back after all the crap she puts you through."

Big Deal shrugged. "She don't mean it; we all know it, an' the only person who don't is Gee-Tar."

Bernice shook her head. "Yer a sap, y'know that?"

Big Deal lifted a corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Bernice."


	21. Now We Start

A/N: I have decided to start updating this on Wednesdays instead of Thursdays for the, you know, four remaining chapters. Because that's definitely productive of me. Um, anyway. This chapter underwent some pretty heavy revision awhile ago, and I'm still not sure I'm completely satisfied with it, so most of the content is subject to change.

Also, I have revised part of this chapter, just as I knew I would, so if you've already read it, you might want to read it again. Just saying.

Also, my sincerest thanks to **Vee** and **Meg** for their reviews, and extra thanks to **Vee** for putting up with me when I'm being a bitch at five in the morning.

* * *

Bernice glanced at her sister as she entered their bedroom. Clarice was sitting at her windowsill, looking outside with an almost anxious expression. "What's eatin' you?"

Clarice shook her head with a distracted air. "Nuthin'."

Bernice rolled her eyes. "So yer starin' out the windah fer no reason whatsoever."

Clarice turned worried eyes to her. "Frankie hasn't come by yet."

Bernice resisted a smirk; that would just be mean. "Yeah, well, guess he finally listened to ya about leavin' ya alone."

Clarice paled. "But…why would he do that?"

Bernice stared at her. "Maybe it has somethin' ta do with the fact that ya kept tellin' him to."

Clarice groaned. "But I didn't _mean_ it!"

Bernice rolled her eyes; she knew it. "Well, y'know, maybe he finally figured out you ain't worth it." Turning to pull her nightgown out of her drawer, she waited for the sharp response sure to follow…but none came. She turned around a moment later.

Clarice looked as if she'd been sucker-punched. "You…you think so?"

Bernice groaned and sat next to Clarice. "No, I don't think so. But honestly, sis? I'd stop treatin' him like a dog that's just gonna keep comin' back, no matter what ya do to him, if I was you."

Clarice shook her head vehemently. "I don't…I don't treat him like a _dog_…"

Bernice raised an eyebrow. "You flirt with the guy who was his best friend up until you came inta the picture an' then watch while he goes chasin' aftah ya; _God_ only knows why."

Clarice looked stricken. "O-oh."

Bernice sighed; she was tired and really didn't feel like dealing with an emotional twin tonight. "Clarice, just…sleep on it, okay?"

Clarice bit her lip, turning her gaze back to the window. "Yeah…okay."

* * *

Superman wasn't afraid of anything. Captain Marvel was similarly unfazed by anything, even his worst enemy. Even Batman would've been peachy keen with swooping around Gotham City at night without the Boy Wonder. Jets sure as hell weren't afraid of walking around in the dark at night—so why the hell was Baby John so daunted by the task before him?

It was only the Upper West Side, after all. Hadn't he grown up here, ran through and played in these streets as a child? Well, yes, he had…but running and playing in broad daylight was a whole lot different than it was at night, when everything was a shadow and all the good and harmless things were in bed.

His eyes moved uneasily towards each alleyway, and he flinched at every slamming car door, every drunken laugh rising up into the air. He kept throwing wary glances over his shoulder as he moved onward, fingering the switchblade he had oh-so-carefully tucked into his belt. He had to be ready for anything—he had learned that after his run-in with the Sharks on Friday. The nick on his ear was still a little sore, but he had largely forgotten about it—there were other pains to be suffered now.

It was hard to believe that less than week ago, he had been chased and handled and cut by someone who, less than two days later, was dead. One day Baby John had seen Bernardo's leering face looming above his as he marked him with his switchblade, and the very next day, Baby John had peered down into it as it crumpled in pain and released a final, punctured breath. The world had a funny way of working out—well, not funny at all, really…

The Jet whistle rang out, and Baby John froze. Whoever it was sounded close by. Wetting his lips, he returned the whistle; a moment later, a blond head darted out of the shadows, and Baby John relaxed as he saw A-Rab.

"Baby John, what're ya doin' out here all alone?" A-Rab wanted to know.

"Just…walkin'," Baby John said, not very convincingly.

A-Rab raised his eyebrows. "Okay…mind if I join ya?"

"Well, uh, yeah, actually, I do." Baby John glanced around, hoping for a distraction, but none came. "I'll see ya later, buddy." He turned to go.

A-Rab, however, grabbed his shoulder. "Baby John, what's up? Why're ya actin' so funny?"

"I ain't actin' funny. I'm actin' perfectly normal," Baby John said, more to convince himself than A-Rab. "I just…need ta be alone."

A-Rab scoffed. "That's a lie an' you know it. C'mon, I'm yer pal; you can tell me anything, ya know ya can."

Baby John hesitated; if A-Rab knew what was going on, he would want to come, and while Baby John appreciated the company, he wasn't sure he wanted A-Rab to come with him. "I…look, Ice sent me on a mission, okay? An' I think he'd get mad if he knew you came. Actually, I _know_ he'd get mad."

"He wouldn't send ya inta PR Territory alone," A-Rab protested, the smallest note of doubt infiltrating his tone. "I mean, that _is_ where yer headed, ain't it?" When he received no response—a sure sign he was right—he continued, "'Sides, I'm just gonna follow ya anyway, so ya might as well—"

"I'm goin' ta get Anybodys, okay?" Baby John finally caved in.

A-Rab stared. "What?"

Baby John sighed. "She went ta go visit Anita again, an' Ice don't want her walkin' around PR Territory all alone at night, especially since he ain't had a chance ta talk things over proper with Pepe…so he asked me ta see her home."

It made sense; most of the other Jets weren't happy with how Anybodys had spilled the beans to Ice and either wouldn't have done it, or, if they had, would harass her endlessly. This was not to mention that Anybodys had purposely avoided the Jets since Sunday night, and Baby John was the only one (not including Ice, of course) she didn't seem to despise. Still, A-Rab could not help thinking that sending Baby John as a bodyguard of sorts was about as useless as not sending anyone at all.

"She might not like you bein' here," Baby John added in a quiet voice.

A-Rab sighed. "Yeah, well, she's gonna hafta deal with it, 'cause I don't like the idea-a you goin' over there by yerself."

"It's yer funeral," Baby John said, shrugging. He cocked his head, looking at A-Rab. "What're you doin' here, anyway?"

A-Rab, much to Baby John's surprise, flushed. "Just…hangin' around. Tryin' ta get away from my old man, y'know?" The lie was convincing enough, but the delivery certainly wasn't.

Baby John shook his head. "That ain't it, though. Yer lyin'. I can tell."

A-Rab exhaled noisily. "I just…look, you can't tell _anyone_ about this, got it? Not even Minnie." Minnie was sweet, but she was terrible at keeping secrets. "_Especially_ not Minnie."

Baby John's eyes widened. "I won't tell anyone, A-Rab, I promise."

A-Rab glanced around as if to check for eavesdroppers before mumbling, "I was lookin' fer Anita."

Baby John's mouth fell open. "_Really_? But…_why_?"

A-Rab shrugged, jamming his fists into his jacket-pockets. "'Cause…I wanted ta apologize to her."

Baby John wasn't quite sure what to make of this. Finally, he said, "Well gee, A-Rab, that's awful brave of ya. Are ya doin' it ta make Anybodys forgive ya?"

"It ain't just fer her!" A-Rab snapped, turning red.

Baby John smirked, his fears momentarily abated. "But she's part of it, ain't she?"

"I swear ta God, Baby John, if we weren't buddies…"

Baby John raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Okay, okay, cool yer jets! I meant it, A-Rab, that's awful brave."

"Yeah, well," A-Rab mumbled, feeling only slightly better.

Ten minutes later found them on the street Baby John was about sixty-percent positive was the one Anita lived on. Both boys had their hands hovering above their concealed switchblades, ready to defend themselves if a disgruntled Shark caught sight of the blond hair that positively gleamed under the streetlamps. "I can't really remember which tenement it is," Baby John admitted. "She went down an alley when I dropped her off. It was kinda dark."

Before A-Rab could inform his friend that this was almost completely unhelpful, the Jet whistle came towards them, quiet and cautious. Equally cautious, A-Rab returned it, and a moment later, Anybodys jogged out of a shadowed alley. "I _thought_ I hoid y—oh, fuck."

A-Rab grimaced—he'd never exactly gotten _that_ reaction before.

"What the _hell_ is he doin' here?" Anybodys demanded to know, folding her arms over her chest, her bony hip jutting out to the side in an annoyed stance.

"He didn't want me comin' alone," Baby John muttered.

Anybodys fixed A-Rab with a glare that Ice would be proud of. "Listen, buddy-boy, I ain't anywhere close ta forgivin' ya, an' I sure as hell don't want you walkin' me home, so the minute we're outta PR Territory, yer gonna split, ya dig?"

"Yes, Yer Majesty," A-Rab snapped, annoyed and even a little embarrassed.

Giving him an unmistakable gesture, Anybodys stalked forward. The two boys automatically followed after her, neither one daring to speak lest he incite her wrath. They were nearing the border of Shark Territory when someone whistled at them from an alley. It was not the Jet whistle, and it immediately set the three teenagers on edge—from the way she was fingering her own belt, A-Rab had a feeling Anybodys had also brought a knife along with her.

A car rolled by, and they saw Pepe's face illuminated by the headlights. He was leaning against the alley wall, dragging on a cigarette and watching them with guarded eyes. There were other Sharks in the alley—not all of them, but still more than three. They were clustered around Pepe, their stances suggesting their loyalty to him. He jerked his head, motioning for them to come forward. Glancing at each other uneasily, the three obeyed. Pepe took one last drag on his cigarette and then flicked it onto the ground, smoothly grinding it into the cement with his shoe.

"Whaddya want?" Anybodys finally asked, unnerved by the silence.

Pepe eyed her, speaking in a slow but dark tone. "We know. About Anita."

The two boys immediately felt a hot surge of guilt. A-Rab, swallowing, ventured, "So…what, what're ya gonna do?"

"We _should_ do to your girl here what you did to Anita. Or were about to do, anyway," Pepe snapped with sudden venom, gesturing to Anybodys.

She took an automatic step backwards even as A-Rab and Baby John took defensive steps forward. A-Rab in particular had an angry look in his eyes. "I don't think so."

Pepe gave him a withering look. "We are not as low as you Jets," he spat. "No, we think it is only fair we receive an apology. A _physical_ apology," he added, rubbing his fist. He nodded at the Sharks, who moved forward.

"Shit—" A-Rab managed before two Sharks grabbed him by the arms.

"What the hell?" Anybodys spat, lashing out against the two Sharks who had grabbed her arms. Baby John, too, was grabbed, and the two of them were pulled back as the two who had A-Rab moved forward. Pepe moved forward and, after a pause, swung his fist into A-Rab's cheek.

"Mother—" A-Rab sputtered before he received another clip to the face. He struggled to get out of the grip Toro and Del Campo had on him, but they weren't letting up. He knew that this was retribution for what had happened to Anita, but he'd be damned if he was going to take the fall for everybody.

And then he caught sight of Anybodys watching him with concern, her eyes wide and her mouth parted. "Dammit," he muttered before Pepe hit him again; he stopped struggling. _Fucking Anybodys_, he thought before his mind grew fuzzy.

Anybodys watched him in shock; she knew that Pepe wasn't giving A-Rab much room to move, but she could see that he had stopped fighting against Toro and Del Campo—and she had a sickening feeling she knew why.

It felt like hours as Anybodys and Baby John watched, flinching and forcing themselves not to cry out. A-Rab's monkey-like face was now riddled with flaming red masses that would soon turn black and purple, and more than a little blood had dribbled out of his nose and mouth and onto his jacket. The occasional grunt or groan would tear itself from him, but he seemed to be controlling himself surprisingly well under the rain of punches. Before long, however, he could no longer hold himself upright and staggered, stumbling and falling onto his hands and knees as Toro and Del Campo, at a glance from Pepe, dropped him. Anybodys sucked in a breath, her fingernails biting into Indio and Rocco's arms, and Pepe dropped his fist.

A-Rab fought not to look so _pathetic_; he didn't care if the Sharks saw him choking on his own spit and blood and unable to even pull himself up, but he knew that Anybodys and Baby John were probably having heart attacks, and they wouldn't get any better if he remained in this state. He unwillingly snorted, the thick, metallic taste of blood heavy in his mouth. Pepe stepped forward uncertainly, looking as if he was ready to help A-Rab up. A-Rab, however, pulled himself up, wincing enormously.

Pepe gazed at him for a moment before saying slowly, "We were wrong about you Jets." And he held out his hand.

A-Rab hesitated before taking Pepe's proffered hand and shaking it, giving a nod. Pepe stepped back. "An eye for an eye…is that not what Americans say? We took your eye for one of ours…but I do not think anyone has gone blind." It was in the past; Anita might as well have never stepped into Doc's that night, as far as the Sharks were concerned. Pepe snapped his fingers and the Sharks dispersed, some glancing over their shoulders at the Jets.

A-Rab's legs, which had been shaking slightly as the Sharks departed, gave out from under him and he collapsed. Anybodys and Baby John were at his side in a moment, both speaking at once and asking if he was all right. He managed to get them to shut up, hawking out a mixture of coagulated spit and blood. "I'm fine," he croaked.

Anybodys snorted. "Yeah? Well, ya look like shit."

"An' you look like Schrank's ass," A-Rab mumbled.

The corner of Anybodys's mouth threatened to rise. "Well, you would know, wouldn't ya?" she retorted. "Baby John, help me get this turd up."

Utterly befuddled, Baby John helped A-Rab to his feet—and saw, with great surprise, that he was smiling.

* * *

Big Deal jolted awake as he felt a certain pressure on his bed. He sat bolt upright, ready to clobber whoever was trying to attack him. He was quite stunned, therefore, to see his visitor. "_Clarice_?"

She finished climbing in through his window and perched beside his hip, tucking her legs underneath her and gazing at him with a very serious face. "Frankie, I gotta talk to ya."

"What…what're you _doin_' here?" Big Deal asked, rubbing his eyes; he wasn't quite sure he believed it.

"I need ta talk to ya," Clarice said, a slight huff of impatience making its way into her tone.

"Clarice, are you…are you in yer _pajamas_?" This was just becoming more and more surreal.

Clarice now looked annoyed as she crossed her arms. "I got somethin' on over it, okay? Look, can ya focus fer just a minute?"

"When yer sittin' in my room in yer nightgown after givin' me the cold shoulder?" Big Deal reminded her.

Clarice's irritability melted. "Frankie…are ya mad at me?" Her voice sounded almost childish in its anxiety.

Big Deal stared. "Mad? Clarice, I thought _you_ were mad at _me_."

Clarice fiddled with the hem of her dressing gown. "I was. I mean, I am, only I…" She let out a noise of frustration. "I don't even know anymore." She peered into his blue eyes. "You didn't come by tonight."

Big Deal shook his head. "Figured it was a lost cause."

Clarice felt a lump in her throat; she swallowed it down with great effort. "So…ya gave up, then?"

Big Deal gazed at her evenly. "Depends; d'ya want me to?"

Clarice, with a suddenness that was quite unlike her, threw her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. "Oh, God! Please don't ever give up on me, Frankie; never ever. Please."

"Hey," he said softly, shifting her into his lap. He was taken aback but not displeased in the slightest as he rubbed her back. "I ain't gonna give up on ya, _Schatze_."

Clarice sniffed, pulling back to look at him as she swiped at tears. "I thought…with Gee-Tar…an' then how I kept tellin' ya ta back off…I thought ya actually _listened_ ta me…"

Big Deal, remembering his earlier conversation with Bernice, grinned and brushed some hair behind her ears. "Nah; I'm pretty well stuck on ya."

Clarice gave him a watery smile. "Good, 'cause…I still love ya."

"Does that mean ya forgive me?" Big Deal asked eagerly.

Clarice nodded. "I mean…I ain't happy with what ya did ta that Shark girl, an' I don't think I'll ever be okay with it, but…I'm still crazy about ya. I _miss_ ya, Frankie, an' I don't wanna fight like this ever again. I'll…I'll even stop flirtin' with Gee-Tar!"

Big Deal's eyes widened in incredulity. "Ya _will_?"

Clarice bit her lip. "Well, I mean…"

"Clarice," Big Deal sighed.

"Well, how else'm I s'posed ta get yer attention?" Clarice asked fretfully.

Big Deal smiled despite himself. "I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you; I'm gonna regret sayin' this later, but even though ya drive me nuts sometimes, I'm pretty crazy about ya." He hesitated. "I've been thinkin', an'…well, if you still weren't gonna take me back, I was gonna give up the Jets ta prove myself to ya."

Clarice sucked in a breath. "Ya _were_?"

Big Deal nodded, his eyes dropping. "I love you, Clarice."

Clarice, with a small, relieved sigh, dropped her head against his bare chest. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Big Deal kissed the top of her head—it was much softer, he noticed, when it wasn't covered in hairspray. "Like ya need ta ask."

Clarice turned her head slightly to kiss him right over his heart. "Hold me tight tonight, Frankie."

"Like ya need ta ask," he mumbled again, pulling her up to kiss her soundly on the lips. Clarice sighed in content, winding her arms around his neck as they sank into the tangle of sheets.


	22. One Hand

A/N: This chapter is the beginning of the end, I suppose; from this point on, everything will be winding down to a close. Well, for the most part; some new conflicts that will not be resolved in the near future (or ever, for that matter) will rise, and there are some questions that, unfortunately, cannot be answered, at least not here. Which is why I will continue writing fanfiction until my, er, last dying day.

Also, there is something of an OMG!moment in this chapter, which, of course, belongs to **LCV Productions** and is a generally-acknowledged fact by most of the active members here (meaning, the Fab Five, as I like to refer to us), but for the rest of you, it may come as a surprise. Maybe not. Maybe I'm nowhere near as subtle as I mean to be and you have known about this all along and will be like, "…and?" when I reveal that !#$%^&*. But anyway…

In less vague news, **Vee** came to visit, and there was much nomming on delicious food and watching of movies and reading of Cleolinda's book (which you simply MUST order, YOU MUST) and epic fangirling over WSS.

Huge thanks for the reviews from the old faces; **Vee, Squishy** (who we are very happy to have back), and **Meg**, and a special thank-you to the new faces; **LoonyLovegoodLuvr** and **beckylove**. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Graziella climbed out of her window, keeping her blanket wrapped securely around her shoulders, and settled on the fire escape. She hugged her knees to her chest, glad she had brought the blanket—the sea breeze could get awfully chilly at night. It was true that this was the city that never slept, but nevertheless, a calm sort of lull had come over the city; the usual blaring horns and sirens were sparse, and the occasional horn from a barge could be heard, muffled against the thick dark of the night.

Graziella couldn't sleep—not that that was anything new. Sleep had been loath to come to her since…well…and what little sleep she _did_ get was riddled with nightmares. Sometimes she dreamt of Bernardo, sometimes of Tony, sometimes even of Anita…but she always, _always_ dreamed of Riff. Sometimes he was alive in her dreams, and sometimes he was dead, and sometimes he was a mixture of both—either way, she always woke up in a cold sweat, her legs tangled in the bedsheets and her heart thumping madly. Her mother had even had to wake her up a few times because she had been screaming in her sleep. Graziella didn't want to wake up from a nightmare again, and so she decided to sit outside and revel in the tranquility the night afforded her.

You'd think people would let a mourning person alone, but no; people were constantly stopping by with casseroles and other dishes Graziella had no appetite for, smiling sadly at Graziella and regarding her with pitying eyes. She hated it, and she hated that her mother was forcing her to sit with these people while all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and mourn. She had even grown tired of her own friends, wishing they would stop walking on eggshells around her.

"Graz?"

Graziella turned and saw her younger brother, Fred, standing in her room. Normally she would've shouted at him for coming into her room, but she just didn't feel like it. "What?" she asked dully.

Fred hesitated before taking a step forward. "I…I couldn't sleep."

"Join the club." Graziella turned back to the city.

Fred cautiously crawled through the window and landed on the fire escape next to her. They both stared at the endless sea of buildings for a moment before Fred dared to speak. "I'm real sorry," he whispered. "A-about Riff."

Graziella closed her eyes. "Yeah, me too."

Fred seemed to be fumbling with the words. "He was always nice ta me; he never got annoyed with me like most guys like him do."

Graziella took a deep, shaky breath. "He never got annoyed with anybody. He…he was a real neat guy."

"Yeah." A pause. "Graz?"

"Hmm?"

Another pause. "I love you. I know I don't tell ya that very much, but…I do."

Graziella glanced down at where Fred had taken her hand in his. She looked back up at him and smiled. "I love you too, Freddy-boy." She offered him some blanket, which he gladly settled under. And so the two Spanella children sat on a fire escape, huddled under a blanket and watching the immortal lights of the city.

* * *

Clarice leaned her head against Big Deal's arm as they walked back to her place. She felt dwarfed in his Jets jacket (he had point-blank refused to let her leave his room in only her nightgown and a flimsy dressing gown), and she held the collar close to her face because it smelled like him. "The visitation's today," she said quietly.

Big Deal's facial expression did not change. "Yeah," he agreed, equally quietly.

Clarice glanced down at her slippered feet. "I almost forgot about it." She bit her lip. "D'ya think…d'ya think we'll all be able ta move on after this?"

"Ya mean, like, be happy again?" Big Deal prodded, glancing down to look at her.

Clarice shrugged. "I guess so." She paused. "Sometimes I'll smile or laugh an' then I wonder if I'm supposed ta feel happy before Riff'n Tony're even buried. It don't feel right."

Big Deal slipped his hand out of hers, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Well, knowin' Riff'n Tony like I did, I don't think they'd mind."

"But we'll never know fer sure, will we?" Clarice murmured. "I don't think they ever planned on dyin' at eighteen." She looked up at him after a moment. "Frankie, didja really mean what ya said last night about, about givin' up the Jets fer me?"

"'Course I did," Big Deal said firmly. "I got ta thinkin', after, well, everything, an', well…it made me realize that…life's too short ta risk on rumbles that were supposed ta be fair fights an' turned inta a double-murder. I mean, I ain't just gonna up an' walk away from 'em, but if it's gonna come between me an' you…I will."

Clarice smiled in spite of herself, toying with his jacket. "Yer one helluva guy, Frankie."

"An' yer one helluva girl, Clarice," Big Deal returned, dropping a kiss in her hair. "But I gotta get you home 'fore yer parents figure out where you were all last night."

Clarice made a small whining sound but allowed him to lead her on. They came to a reluctant halt before her apartment building; he slid the arm around her shoulders to her waist and cradled her head with his other hand as she tilted it back to receive a kiss. Her arms went about his shoulders, pressing her body to his. A warm jolt went from the tips of her toes to the hairs of her head, and she did not even feel the chilly early-morning breeze that swept by, despite the thin nightgown fluttering around her. When they finally broke apart, Big Deal grinned down at her, his fingers tracing the bones in her spine. "I'll pick ya up about a quarter ta three."

"Okay," Clarice said, reluctant to let him go. She handed him back his jacket with a resigned air.

Big Deal gave her one last kiss before gently nudging her to the fire escape, which she climbed with great reluctance. Clarice shivered, realizing how very cold it was without him; she waved at him one last time before clambering through her window and onto her bed. Bernice was sound asleep, looking extremely comfortable. Clarice, grinning, snuggled into her own bed, her head full with thoughts of Big Deal.

* * *

Anybodys woke up to find something bouncing on her bed and crushing her legs. She winced against the sunlight pervading her blinds, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Sissy, what time is it?" she asked, groggy.

"It's not Sissy, silly; it's Minnie! And it's after one o'clock, you sleepy-head!"

Anybodys sat bolt upright, her eyes widening despite the light. "_Minnie_? What the h—what're ya _doin'_ here?"

"I came to see you, of course!" Minnie chirped, once again bouncing. "Oh, Anybodys, Johnny told me all about you forgiving A-Rab last night, and that was so _sweet_—"

"Minnie," Anybodys croaked. "Please tell me ya didn't walk here all by yerself."

Minnie shook her head. "Oh, no; Johnny walked me over here. He said Ice wanted him to walk you to the visitation, and he's taking me, too. Oh, Anybodys, I'm so _glad_ you and A-Rab made up!"

Anybodys scoffed, twisting her legs out from underneath Minnie. "We ain't gonna be all buddy-buddy, if that's what yer thinkin'." She saw Baby John peering cautiously into her room and growled, throwing the sheets off of her (and onto poor Minnie) and storming towards him. "You putz! What the _hell_ were you thinkin', takin' her _here_?"

"She wanted ta talk to ya, an' I already told A-Rab we'd meet him before the visitation, an' Minnie said she had ta ask ya somethin' an' A-Rab couldn't be there," Baby John said fretfully, tugging at his tie nervously.

"It's true!" Minnie said. "There's something I'm _dying_ to know…Johnny, would you mind terribly leaving us alone for a few moments? For a little girl-talk?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Baby John agreed, backing away. "Say, Anybodys, can I watch TV?"

"Yeah, yeah, just keep the volume low so ya won't wake up Sissy," Anybodys said dismissively, shutting the door in his face. She turned around, putting her hands on her hips. "Okay. What is it?"

"Come sit here," Minnie urged, patting the bed. Anybodys obligingly sat down, facing Minnie, and the other girl put her hands on Anybodys's knees, leaning forward. "Anybodys. I think there is something serious going on between you and A-Rab."

Anybodys stared at her as if she had started singing in Swahili. "_What_?"

Minnie nodded. "I don't know if you've realized this or not, but A-Rab _likes_ you. Like, he _likes_-you-likes you."

Anybodys stared again before laughing. "Minnie, that's ridiculous."

"Love isn't ridiculous," Minnie said seriously. "I've seen the way he looks at you. Look at everything he went through to get you to forgive him. _And_," Minnie took a deep breath. "_I_ think you like him back."

Anybodys scoffed. "_I_ do _not_ like A-Rab. I _hate_ him. He hates _me_. It's kinda how we _are_."

Minnie had an uncharacteristically smug look on her face. "Maybe that's what you think, but I know love when I see it."

Anybodys rolled her eyes as she moved to the closet to get her clothes. She wished she lived in Minnie-land; it was probably made out of cotton candy.

* * *

Friday was much quieter than any other day that week, except perhaps for Sunday, when the grief was still fresh. Very few telephone calls were made between the Jets or their girls; everyone knew that everyone else was coming, what time it was, where it was, and what to wear. The streets themselves seemed subdued; the laughter of children was muffled, somehow, and the blasting of car horns was not as violent as it usually was.

Clarice was completely at odds with herself. On the one hand, she was deeply upset, because she knew that at three o'clock, she would have to see Tony's grief-stricken mother and see the still, silent bodies of Riff and Tony, something she had dreaded all week—and yet, there was a part of her that refused to be anything but happy; she and Big Deal were together again, really and truly, and he had as good as told her she was more important to him than the Jets. She wasn't supposed to feel anything but remorse today…but it was hard to suppress that delicious tingle whenever she thought of Big Deal.

Bernice, thrilled her sister was finally done moping over Big Deal, had offered to fix her hair before the visitation, and that was exactly what she was doing when the telephone rang. As their parents were gone—Mr. Gambini at work and Mrs. Gambini teaching her usual recreational class at the YWCA—Bernice sighed and set down the curling iron. "I'll get it."

Clarice, clad in only her camisole, turned from side to side as she watched her reflection; she had to admit, she looked rather nice. She knew that it wouldn't matter, that the only person who might take notice of her appearance would be Big Deal (well, Gee-Tar might, but his opinion didn't very much matter to her), but she was not about to turn away Bernice, especially not when her sister was willingly being so nice to her.

After several minutes, Bernice reentered the room, her face as white as a sheet. Clarice stood up, immediately concerned. "Bernice?" she asked, ready to rush forward should Bernice swoon. "What is it?"

"That was the doctor." Bernice swallowed. "The blood test came back."

Clarice felt her mouth go dry. Bernice's iron had been low during the last visit…oh God, she was dying…

"I'm knocked up."

By the time these words actually registered with Clarice, so did the fact that Bernice had burst into tears. Clarice ran to her sister, enfolding her in her arms and guiding her towards her bed. Clarice was in shock, but she kept her arms tight around Bernice as her twin buried her head in Clarice's shoulder and sobbed, her shoulders wracking.

"Oh, Bernice," Clarice whispered. "I…I don't know what ta tell ya…"

"I can't be _pregnant_!" Bernice exploded. "I just _can't_ be! I'm only seventeen! I ain't even graduated yet! I still live with my parents; I can't take care of a _baby_!"

Clarice had no idea what to say; she didn't think _Miss Manners_ exactly addressed the proper response to your twin sister telling you she was in the family way. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it herself; normally, babies were cause for celebrating, but that most certainly wasn't the case here. She bit her lip, stroking Bernice's hair.

"I don't even know who knocked me up," Bernice wailed, now fairly trembling.

Clarice thought desperately. "Well…d'ya have any idea how far along ya are?"

"N-no," Bernice managed, making a very obvious effort to try and control herself. "Doctor didn't say."

Clarice bit her lip, thinking hard. "Well…maybe when ya go see him next, he can tell ya, an' then ya can think back." Bernice was a tramp, it was true, but it would be much easier to track down the father of her unborn child than it would be with Pauline.

"Yeah, maybe," Bernice said miserably. Suddenly she sat up straight, turning pale and covering her mouth. "I…I think I…" She didn't finish; instead, she bolted from the room. Clarice chased after her, wincing as she heard her sister being violently sick in the bathroom. She took a washcloth from the cabinet and wet it, gently pressing it to Bernice's forehead and cheeks when she had recovered.

"Thanks," Bernice muttered, sitting on the now-covered toilet. "Guess that's gonna be happenin' a lot more now."

Clarice bit her lip as she perched delicately on the edge of the bathtub. "I heard it don't last very long," she offered weakly.

Bernice sighed, dropping her chin in her hand. "It's gonna be hard ta hide, with me runnin' to the bathroom every five minutes."

Clarice's eyes widened. "Yer gonna hide it?"

"I dunno what I'm gonna do," Bernice said miserably. "Even if I found out who the father is, it's gonna be a Jet, an' we both know no Jet would marry a girl if he had to, 'specially not one like me."

"Maybe you can go ta Sicily an' stay with the family," Clarice said in an attempt to remain optimistic. She had heard of girls going "abroad" or "out west" to stay with family; it was common but unspoken knowledge that these girls had shamed their families with an illegitimate baby and were leaving to have the baby in quiet humiliation. It wasn't an ideal option, but it would save Bernice's reputation on the Upper West Side—well, what reputation wasn't already tarnished by all the boys she'd slept with.

Bernice sat up straight. "_Dio Mio_…family. What'm I gonna tell ma an' dad?"

Clarice felt her stomach plummet even further. Things were just getting worse by the minute…

"They'll _kill_ me!" Bernice groaned. "You have any idea how many Hail Marys they'll make me do? If they don't kick me out first!" She dropped her head into her hands.

Clarice's eyes widened. "Ya think they would?"

Bernice looked miserable. "They don't even approve-a Big Deal datin' you 'cause he ain't a nice Sicilian boy; how the hell d'ya think they're gonna take me with a bun in the oven an' no idea who the baker is?"

Clarice bit her lip. It was true that Mr. and Mrs. Gambini considered their daughters a cut above their friends; the only reason Mr. Gambini even tolerated Big Deal was because the Jet had worked as hard as possible to _not_ give him a reason not to tolerate him. Mr. Gambini would have an embolism if he knew that his daughters were not the prim and proper little ladies he had raised, and learning that Bernice was pregnant and couldn't even begin to identify a single father would almost certainly send him into a coma. But not, of course, before sending Bernice to a convent in Switzerland, something many of their footloose and fancy-free cousins had been threatened with.

Bernice dropped her head in Clarice's lap, sniffling heavily. "I feel like dyin'. Maybe I oughta, 'fore _Papi_ kills me."

Clarice stroked Bernice's hair soothingly; it was the only thing she knew she could do. "Don't worry, _dolcezza_; we'll figure somethin' out."

Bernice snorted against Clarice's thigh. "Yer only sayin' that 'cause ya want me ta stop cryin'."

"No," Clarice protested quickly. "I really do mean it…"

Bernice sat up, wiping her eyes and giving a watery chuckle. "We came outta the womb together, kid; I know what yer thinkin'."

Clarice gave a sheepish smile. "Well…I _do_ know we'll figure somethin' out, though."

Bernice returned the smile, hugging her sister warmly. "_Ti amo._"

"_Ti amo_," Clarice said, returning the embrace.

By the time Big Deal came by at a quarter to three, Bernice had composed herself; she was completely subdued now, and thankfully, no one was going to question her about it today. Clarice answered the door and, after giving Big Deal a quick greeting kiss, stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Somethin' happened…I can't tell ya what, but _don't_ say anything ta Bernice that might set her off."

"I…what?" But before Clarice could fully elaborate, Bernice appeared, avoiding Big Deal's eye. Giving Clarice a look as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, he nodded at Bernice. "Hi, Bernice."

"Hi," she returned, still not looking at him as she grabbed her purse. "You ready?"

"Yes," Clarice said, slipping a hand into that of her sister's. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and then it was time to go, time to move on—time to forget their own personal pains and remember the two boys who had died almost a week ago.

* * *

A-Rab, Anybodys, Baby John, and Minnie headed to the church with something of a subdued air. Or at least, A-Rab had thought it was subdued until Minnie scooted towards him while Anybodys and Baby John argued; a truck had nearly run them over, and Anybodys was declaring that it was Baby John's fault for "runnin' inta the street like a big fat moron."

"Your secret's safe with me," Minnie whispered solemnly.

A-Rab stared at her. "What secret?"

"_You_ know." She looked around as if afraid of eavesdroppers and leaned in closer. "About _Anybodys_."

"What about her?" A-Rab was floored; he wondered if he'd taken one too many hits to the head last night.

Minnie sighed. "About _liking_ her."

A-Rab stared at her again. "Minnie, are ya feelin' all right?"

"Oh, A-Rab, don't be so silly! I _know_ you like her. I can _tell_. And I know that she likes you, too," she added.

A-Rab eyed Anybodys suspiciously through the eye that wasn't swollen. Sure she liked him—like a bat liked the sun. He knew that she felt that way because that was _exactly_ how he felt about the tomboy. "I hate ta break it to ya, but I an' Anybodys? We pretty much hate each other."

"You're both in _denial_," Minnie sighed.

A-Rab rolled his eyes. "Minnie, if _she _said she hates _me_ an' _I_ said I hate _her_, don'tcha think that means we both hate _each other_?"

Minnie patted his arm consolingly. "Don't worry, A-Rab; I won't tell anyone you love her." And she trotted forward to end the argument—Anybodys was now pinching Baby John's rather sensitive ribs.

A-Rab shook his head in disbelief. "_Chicks_."

* * *

Graziella pushed open the door to the cathedral, glancing around warily. While her family spoke with the priest, she moved into the chapel. The two coffins were at the front by the altar—she swallowed heavily upon seeing them. Riff was lying in one of those coffins—_her_ Riff. She buried her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry.

"Graziella?"

Graziella looked up into Mrs. Wyzek's kind and yet weary face. She managed a smile. "Hi, Mrs. Wyzek," she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Oh, please, call me Alice," she said, pulling the girl into a warm, maternal hug. "You're like family to me."

Graziella clung to the woman tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

After several moments of this, Mrs. Wyzek pulled back, holding Graziella at arm's length. "You will sit up front with me, yes? You were Riff's girlfriend, and since Riff was like a son to me, that makes you my daughter."

Graziella felt tears prickling at her eyes again. She did not dare speak around the golf-ball-sized lump in her throat; instead, she nodded vigorously and followed Mrs. Wyzek to the front pew.


	23. One Heart

A/N: I'm aware that there is lots of hugging in this chapter; I've only ever attended one memorial service in my life (the one visitation I went to was when I was four and it was someone I didn't know, and my grandma had to pull me out of there when I tried to touch the dead body), and since most of us were hugging each other the whole time, I assume it's a fairly common occurrence.

Things are wrapping up now; next chapter is the penultimate one. What with this one coming to a close, _Nine Months_ ending, and another long fic I've been working on finishing up, I'm a little sad—it's definitely not helped by the fact that I was given a _West Side Story_ poster as a going-away-present (now Bernardo, Pepe, and Juano can watch me while I sleep. What fun I shall have).

Finally, this chapter is for **Vee, **who said she was craving a chapter. And because she's gotten me hooked on _Mad Men_. Which I vehemently protested at first, but now am oddly addicted to. Enjoy!

* * *

"I wished the world were not one black empty ruin of ashes and death."

-Anne Rice, _Interview with the Vampire_

* * *

The Jets and their girls came in clusters of twos and threes, their faces solemn. Ice and Velma were the first to arrive; Velma kissed Mrs. Wyzek's and Graziella's cheeks as Ice quietly told them both that he was so, so sorry. Clarice, Bernice and Big Deal followed soon after, Bernice's eyes pink and puffy from crying. Next came Mouthpiece and Tiger, their eyes wide with their dog-like devotion. Then came Gee-Tar and the Boyer twins, shifting uneasily as they gave their condolences. Minnie, Baby John, A-Rab (who, for some reason, looked as if he'd been run over by the F train) and Anybodys, the four of them forcing down tears and trembling as they apologized for crimes they had not committed. Pauline, looking uncharacteristically remorseful…human, even. And finally, Action—Action, who had sneered at all of Graziella's femininity even when they were dating; Action, who had considered Tony an enemy the moment he walked from the Jets; Action, who hated the world and had always hated it and would always hate it and would never, ever love it—stood before her and Mrs. Wyzek, choking on his apologies for two deaths he felt he had caused.

"It's all right, Action," Mrs. Wyzek said softly, taking one of his hands in hers and squeezing. "You didn't do anything."

The corner of Action's mouth turned up in a wry smile, and Graziella could clearly read the look in his eyes: _Thanks, ma'am, but I fucked up somethin' awful._

And then he turned to Graziella, his brown eyes softer than she'd ever seen them before—and that was saying a lot, considering he was her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first…well, her first. He licked his lips and murmured, "Graziella…I'm, I'm sorry. Fa everything. Ya didn't deserve this. Riff…he didn't deserve it either." Quietly, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. And then he was gone, slouching off to go sit with A-Rab.

It stunned Graziella; she knew that Action had loved Riff—how could you not? But she had thought for so long that Action was just barely human, that the only thing he ever felt was anger, never remorse…what happened a moment ago was so unlike him that Graziella had to wonder if it really had been Action she'd seen and not someone else. She glanced over her shoulder at him—it was Action, all right, but not the angry stick of lit dynamite she had known before. He wasn't quite who he had been before…there again, who was, these days?

* * *

Anybodys gazed at the array of pictures set up on the altar, her throat constricted as she saw Riff and Tony, in all their childish energy, caught for a fleeting moment in black-and-white. There they were, ten years old, arms around each other's scrawny shoulders as they grinned at the camera. Tony holding a baseball and a catcher's mitt while Riff held a bat over his shoulders. Riff leaping onto a surprised-looking Tony's back. Riff and Tony socking each other with pillows. Tony leaping away from the monkey cage at the zoo while Riff doubled over in laughter. Riff and Tony grinning as they poked their heads out of an igloo they had made in the Park, a pile of snowballs nearby. Riff sitting in a trashcan while Tony looked on, amused. Riff and Tony at the museum, imitating the cavemen exhibits.

And then there were some more recent pictures. Pictures with the Jets. The gang performing one of their rain-dances. Riff and Tony with the gang in Doc's, arms around the shoulders of whoever was nearest them, grinning at the camera. Riff and Tony arm-wrestling. Riff kneeling on the ground while Tony held his arm behind his back, Riff's mouth forming the word "uncle." Graziella tucked under Riff's arm as he talked to Tony—it was a rather nice picture, really. And then the last one: the gang all crowded in for a picture, their girls hanging onto their arms and beaming—and Anybodys, poking out from between Riff and Tony, a wide grin on her face. Anyone else might think it was just another smile. Anybodys knew that she was beaming like that because Riff and Tony, however inadvertently, had their arms around her.

"They were such handsome boys."

Anybodys turned to see Mrs. Wyzek. She forced a smile. "Hullo, Mrs. Wyzek."

"Oh, Annie, dear," Mrs. Wyzek murmured, reaching forward and embracing the girl. Anybodys returned the gesture; Mrs. Wyzek had been like a mother to her, back when Tony used to indulgently play with little Annie and Johnny, back before the Jets. Mrs. Wyzek pulled away after a very long moment and held her back at arm's length, her kind eyes looking her over. "_My,_ you've gotten skinny!" She didn't say "you've grown" or "you've turned into quite a young lady," because none of it was true, and Mrs. Wyzek was not one to lie through her teeth.

Anybodys shrugged, the ghost of a smile on her pale lips. "Live on the tenth floor of a buildin' that don't have a workin' elevator; guess I work off everything I eat."

Mrs. Wyzek pursed her lips; they both knew this wasn't the only reason Anybodys's body had virtually remained the same since she was twelve. "How's your sister? Sissy?"

Anybodys shifted, shrugging again. "Oh, y'know…she does all right for herself."

Mrs. Wyzek turned and picked up the photograph of the two boys pillow-fighting. "They tell me you tried to save Tony."

Anybodys did not bother asking who. "Tried. Couldn't."

Mrs. Wyzek heaved a sigh. "It wasn't your fault, Annie dear. I lost him to Riff, to the Jets, to Maria, and then to a pistol." She paused. "_We_ lost him."

"I'm so sorry," Anybodys began, but Mrs. Wyzek did not let her finish.

"Oh, no, dear," the older woman said quietly. "Everyone here is sorry, and I've had enough of their being sorry for me. That's the problem with the world, you know; too much being sorry and not enough being grateful there's not more to be sorry _about_. You're young; too young to understand the feeling of weariness that comes with being sorry."

"Too late ta go back now," Anybodys said, her mouth smiling but her eyes dull.

Mrs. Wyzek set down the picture, giving Anybodys a small smile. "Maybe not. Go out and live, Annie; life is much, _much_ too short to waste." As if to emphasize her point, she glanced at the open caskets.

Anybodys was quiet for a brief moment before reaching forward and giving the woman a squeeze. Before it had time to register with Mrs. Wyzek, Anybodys slipped away into the mass of mourners—Anybodys never did face reality if she could help it.

* * *

Clarice pushed open the door to the bathroom, grateful when she saw only one stall taken. "Bernice?"

There was a sigh of relief and then the stall unlatched. "Hi." Bernice looked pale and worn, her makeup running slightly.

"Are you all right?" Clarice asked stupidly.

Bernice shrugged, wiping her mouth. "I think I'm done now. I'm all right with crackers an' soda, but anything else don't sit too well with the…well, it just don't sit too well."

Clucking her tongue in sympathy, Clarice grabbed a few paper towels and wet them, pressing them to Bernice's forehead and cheeks. Bernice, however, pushed the wad of paper towels away. "Ya don't hafta baby me."

"I'm not babyin' ya, I'm takin' care-a ya," Clarice said, sounding more snappish than she had intended to. "Yer sick."

"I ain't sick, just knocked up," Bernice sighed. She leaned against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the ground. "Knocked up. _Dio Mio_." She glanced up at Clarice. "You told Big Deal yet?"

"No." Clarice wanted so badly to tell him, especially in light of what had transpired the night before, but she wasn't about to betray her sister's trust.

Bernice blinked at her before looking down at her lap. "Thanks." She took a deep breath and held out a hand to her sister. "Help me up, huh?" When Clarice did so, she moved to the mirror, taking a paper towel and dabbing at her running makeup. "God, I look a mess." She took another deep breath, examining herself in the mirror before turning. "Let's go."

Clarice sighed and slipped her hand into Bernice's, returning to a place where no one knew Bernice was pregnant…a place where a girl of seventeen expecting a child was simply not allowed.

* * *

Pauline frowned as she heard a sniffing noise. She glanced around; it didn't seem to be anyone around her. They all looked deeply upset, yes, but not crying. The sound was quite close, though, and it was starting to alarm her. With a startled look, she pulled up the table cloth of the refreshment table and gasped. "_Minnie_?"

For Minnie was huddled on the ground, her crinolines bunched around her, sniffing. A very distressed-looking Baby John sat beside her, his arm around her slender shoulders as he handed her a handkerchief. The two glanced up at Pauline. Minnie sniffed. "Hi, Pauline."

"What're ya doin' down here?" Pauline asked, crouching down.

"Oh, nothing; just being silly," Minnie said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief.

"She heard some people talkin' about Riff an' Tony an' got upset," Baby John explained, looking deeply pained for Minnie.

Pauline wasn't exactly a _compassionate_ person, per se; she gave and received so much that, outside the bedroom, she didn't feel the need to go out of her way for others. Still, she had always viewed Minnie as someone worth being nice to—Minnie had never, ever passed a judgment on Pauline, and you just couldn't help caring for someone like that. So she crawled under the table with Minnie and Baby John and put a hand on Minnie's knee. "I'm sorry."

Minnie gave her a watery smile. "Oh, don't be. I just…it just came over me all of a sudden, and I couldn't help it. Johnny was so nice to suggest hiding under here so no one would have to see me!"

Baby John shrugged, turning pink.

"It's okay ta miss 'em, y'know," Pauline said quietly. "I do."

Minnie bit her lip, toying with the handkerchief. "I know…I just…it doesn't seem fair to be so upset. Graziella and Mrs. Wyzek haven't cried yet—at least, not very badly—and…well, it seems a little rude to cry when they're holding up so well."

"It ain't rude ta be upset 'cause two-a yer friends died," Pauline said firmly. "It's _natural_."

"Still…I think I'd like to stay here for a few moments longer," Minnie said, glancing at Baby John. "It's…it's so nice and quiet, being apart from everyone else for a little bit."

Pauline smiled. "Sure." She crawled out from underneath the table (ignoring some of the shocked looks as she did so) and rose, smoothing out her skirt. Everyone was entitled to their own little private corner of the world once in awhile, she supposed.

* * *

Velma and Clarice disengaged themselves from their boyfriends after a long conversation they had very little to do with, linking arms as they headed towards the refreshment table. Ladling some of the juice into two cups, Clarice asked, "D'ya think Graziella's okay? I ain't been around her very much."

"I…y'know, I don't even know where she is," Velma admitted, glancing around. "She was sittin' beside Mrs. Wyzek fer the longest time, but I guess she got up now…"

"I'm worried about her," Clarice said in an undertone. "Sometimes people seem just fine, and then next thing ya know, they just _snap_." As if to emphasize her point, she snapped her fingers on the last word.

"Oh, I don't wanna think about that," Velma said, shuddering. "She's been doin' so well lately…I'm kinda hopin' the worst is over."

"Maybe it is," Clarice allowed. "Still; I'd keep a careful eye on her fer awhile." She knew Graziella had a destructive nature about her; she had tortured her body just to attract boys, and harming herself to forget a deeper pain was certainly not impossible.

Velma nodded, sighing. Her eyes strayed towards Big Deal and she turned to Clarice, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, I see you an' Big Deal made up."

Clarice's eyes strayed to Big Deal, looking fond. "Yeah."

Velma squeezed her hand. "I'm happy for ya."

Clarice gave a very small smile; she dared not be happy here. "Thanks." Her smile faded. "Velma, look."

Velma turned around and, with a start, noticed Graziella moving down the aisle towards the altar. She approached the coffin slowly, her eyes intent on Riff's corpse and her footsteps soft. Velma and Clarice watched her with a mixture of reverence and concern—they had no idea what their friend might do, given her grief. A few of the Jets and their girls also looked up, but the others continued their low buzz of conversation, oblivious to the sorrow and the agony that was so clearly in front of them. Perhaps, Velma thought, they _chose_ to remain oblivious…ignorance is bliss, after all.

Graziella came to a halt beside the open coffin, her left hand gripping the edge of it. Velma set down her cup, ready to bolt to her friend's side if needed. Graziella reached behind her, and Velma was surprised to see her unclasp the cross necklace that had always, always hung around her neck. It had been a Confirmation gift, and Velma had never, ever seen Graziella without it; she slept and even bathed with it. To see her take it off now was somewhat alarming.

Graziella re-clasped the necklace and, bringing the cross pendant to her lips, kissed it for a long moment. Then she brought her cupped hand to Riff's hands, which were clasped mildly over his chest; with the very greatest of precision, she wound the gold chain into his hands, leaving the cross hanging out over his chest. After a pause, she leaned forward and pressed one last, lingering kiss to his cold lips.

She turned away, trembling, and Velma let out an audible gasp as her legs gave out from under her. Tiger was there in a moment, his thick arms encircling her miniscule waist as he pulled her upright. Graziella collapsed against his chest, her orange curls a stark contrast against the black of his jacket, which she was now staining with her tears. Tiger half-dragged, half-carried her out the nearest exit, and Velma and Clarice tore after them into the antechamber. It appeared to be a study, and Tiger set Graziella in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Riff," Graziella was sobbing, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Riff…"

Velma immediately put her arms around her friend, holding her close as she sobbed. She was vaguely aware of Clarice kindly but firmly encouraging Tiger to leave, telling him they could handle it. Clarice knelt before them, her concerned face peering into Graziella's. "Oh, honey…"

"I c-can't t-take it anymore!" Graziella wailed. "I've b-been t-tryin' ta h-hold my head up an' m-move on, like I know h-he'd t-tell me t-ta d-do, but n-n-nobody'll _let_ me! They k-keep _talkin'_ about him, an' I j-just c-can't _do_ it anymore!"

Velma and Clarice exchanged looks.

"Calm down, Graz," Velma said in as placatory a tone as she could manage, rubbing her arm. "It's okay."

Clarice held out a box of tissues from the desk to Graziella, who immediately took several and blew her nose. She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "Look at me…I'm a mess."

Velma sucked in a breath; she knew Graziella was trying to downplay the situation, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "You look fine," she lied.

Graziella scoffed, wiping at the flecks of mascara on her upper cheeks. "I ain't had a decent sleep in about a week; ya don't hafta lie." She gave an enormous sniff. "Let's go back out before they get worried."

Velma glanced at Clarice; she shrugged as if to say "She's _your_ best friend." Velma sighed, following the redhead. Eyes followed them unashamedly, but Graziella held her head high, refusing to let any one of them upset her. She slipped away from Velma and Clarice after a moment, moving towards Mrs. Wyzek. The older woman took one look at her and hugged her. "Oh, Graziella, dear, I'm so sorry," she murmured into the girl's orange hair.

Graziella gently pulled back. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Wyzek asked, raising an eyebrow.

Graziella shrugged. "I hafta be, don't I?"

Mrs. Wyzek sighed. "Yes, I suppose so."

A hush fell over the guests near the back, thus causing everyone else to silence and turn to see what had caught their attention. Graziella's eyes widened.

Maria was walking down the aisle, her steps slow and even. Her face was paler than Graziella remembered it—no doubt a result of never stepping into the sunlight anymore. It occurred to Graziella that she had not seen Maria since that night on the playground—no one had. It sent a chill down most of their spines as they watched her move forward, looking like a phantom in her dress and shawl of black. People stepped aside to let her through, staring unashamedly.

She came to a graceful pause before Mrs. Wyzek, looking her straight in the eye. "I am sorry I was late," she said quietly. She sounded different now; at the playground, her voice had been cold and hard with anger—now, it was soft and weak in sorrow. "I was at Bernardo's funeral."

"Oh, that's perfectly all right, dear," Mrs. Wyzek said, her voice cracking. She reached forward and held Maria close for a long moment.

After awhile, Maria finally pulled away, her dark eyes shining. She turned to Graziella, taking both her pale hands in her darker ones. "Graziella," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to finally speak to you. Tony and Riff were like brothers…that makes us sisters, yes?"

Graziella tried to force a reassuring smile and found that she didn't need to force herself. "Yeah…I guess it does."

Maria embraced the girl, and Graziella found herself returning the gesture with more vigor than she knew she had. When they pulled apart, Maria was smiling faintly at the older girl. "Come, _querida_; let us sit together. I feel that we have much to talk about."


	24. Even Death Won't Part Us Now

A/N: Even though this isn't the last chapter, this is technically the end of the story—woe. But in all seriousness, it does make me sad to have to end this; I started working on this fic a little under a year ago, and as my first major _West Side Story_ fic, it holds a special place in the cockles of my heart. And yes, I did just say cockles. But I'll save the really sappy stuff for next chapter.

I've never attended an actual funeral before, which is why I've been pretty vague in regards to the ceremony. I'm not even sure how one would go about delivering a eulogy or anything like that, which is why I'm glad things worked out so well. I feel like Ice would have been the one to deliver the eulogy; he was the closest friend Riff and Tony had, other than each other, obviously.

And now for a relatively small detail: I know that there were no Jet jackets in the film, but all the Jets were wearing jackets in the more professional of the two productions I've seen, and pictures from many stage productions seem to support the idea that the Jets all wore matching jackets. I remember reading somewhere (but cannot for the life of me remember where; stupid source amnesia. Although I feel like it was on the DVD…but maybe not) that the reason they did not use matching jackets in the film was because it was June and too hot for these jackets (I'm assuming the jackets the Jets wore at the rumble are lightweight?). It is my belief that the Jets did, in fact, have special jackets that they tended to wear in cooler weather. And that was my (almost) completely pointless paragraph of the day.

Enormous thanks must go to **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies** for their squee-inducing reviews!

* * *

"It didn't have to end, not in this, not in despair! Because that's what it is, isn't it? Despair?"

-Anne Rice, _Interview with the Vampire_

* * *

If Friday had been quiet, it was _nothing_ compared to the still silence of Saturday.

Mrs. Wyzek, Maria, Graziella, Doc, Sissy, the Jets and their girls were the only attendants to the funeral—they were the only family the two boys had ever really had. Silently, all twenty of them gathered around the gravesite. Three chairs had been set aside; Mrs. Wyzek took the one in the middle while Graziella and Maria flanked her. The boys looked oddly formal in their black suits—the only thing that saved them from looking completely awkward were the signature Jet ties they all wore. The girls looked similarly out of place in black, modest dresses; they were nothing like the bright and flashy skirts and dresses they normally donned.

Graziella could not focus on anything but the casket before her—inside lay Riff, and she was about to lose him forever. A part of her was tempted to throw back the lid and crawl in there with him—life was not worth living without him. She was tired of everyone's pitying looks, their rehearsed condolences, the constant reminders that she and Riff were parted by death.

And then Mrs. Wyzek took Graziella's hand and squeezed it. Graziella looked at her and forced a small, reassuring smile before turning back to the tombstone, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears began to well up yet again.

Their tombstone, which stood over both their still-empty graves, read:

_Ralph George Lorton and Anton Emil Wyzek_

_1938 – 1957_

_Womb to Tomb_

_Birth to Earth_

* * *

Velma reluctantly released Ice's hand as he stepped forward. Everyone looked up at him, intensely curious as to what he had to say. He was silent for a moment before heaving a sigh and speaking loud enough for all to hear. "I was asked ta deliver the eulogy, so…here I am. I didn't prepare a speech or nuthin'; I didn't feel like Riff an' Tony woulda thought too much-a that."

A few chuckles met this statement; it was true that Riff and Tony would have indeed scoffed at the idea of anyone preparing a speech on their behalf.

Ice continued, "They were great guys. Everybody loved 'em; it was hard not to. We woulda followed 'em anywhere. That was why they was such great leaders, I guess." He was quiet for a moment. "Ya can't really talk about Riff or Tony without mentionin' the Jets."

A few wry smiles.

"The Jets was their life—especially Riff's. Even when Tony moved onta other things, he never _really_ left us." He took a deep breath. "An' I know that…that they're still part-a the Jets…even now." He hesitated and then stepped back, taking his place in the crowd again. Velma moved to stand beside him and he enveloped her in his arms at once. She sighed against his chest, grateful once more that she was not in Graziella's place, listening to someone speak with such heart-wrenching love for Ice.

* * *

As Ice stepped back, everyone's eyes dropped, just barely listening to the priest—if they were listening at all. It was hard pretending to care about something a stuffy old man said that he had no doubt said many times about the enormous void in their lives.

Pauline glanced up, her eyes catching on Anybodys—Anybodys, who had shown up in a black mourning dress and under her sister's arm, leaning on her heavily. No one had seen Sissy in ages, and she was as pale as a vampire; but there she was, holding her baby sister tight to her and stroking her pathetic excuse for hair with the fondness of a mother. Not too far away stood the Gambini twins, arms around each other's waists and beautiful, dark heads bent in sorrow. The breeze pushed at their neat black curls, tugging imploringly at the hems of their dresses.

Minnie stood a few feet away, her delicate little fingers intertwined with Baby John's, tears clinging to her jawbone, her lower lip trembling; despite this, she remained as still and silent as a statue. A few yards away, Velma stood with Ice, leaning into him tiredly and watching the reverend speak with an almost hopeless look. And then there was Graziella; Graziella, who sat beside Tony's mother, her trembling hands jittering in her lap, clutching a lacy handkerchief as if her life depended upon it. She was holding back her sobs with great effort, and Pauline, in one of the few humane moments she experienced, felt the inexplicable urge to put her arm around the girl and stroke her red, limp curls.

Pauline didn't often feel this way towards other people, and she couldn't understand why she had become so compassionate lately; first with Minnie, now with Graziella. It just wasn't like her; it almost worried her. She'd always thought that human companionship was just a load of bull; there was only one kind of physical contact she ever needed, and all it took were fifteen minutes before the need was sated. This new feeling of _wanting_ to be around someone—someone _female_, no less—was completely foreign to her.

And yet…it was not an entirely unwelcome feeling. Perhaps, Pauline decided, it wouldn't hurt to let someone get close to you once in awhile.

* * *

Minnie didn't have any black clothes; she never really liked the color. It was so...dreary. Her mother had taken her out to buy a black dress because none of her friends had a spare dress suitable for a funeral; she sincerely hoped she'd never have to wear it ever again. Baby John, for once in his life, hadn't told her that she looked pretty; he was too concerned with trying to be strong.

Minnie knew that there were things her friends weren't telling her. She knew that they thought they were protecting her by leaving out the more sordid details. She knew that she didn't comprehend things quite as well as her friends, that her mind was on a different plane than theirs.

But she also knew that Riff and Bernardo and Tony weren't going to be the last ones to fall from the slash of a knife or the click of a trigger. There are always going to be people who hate, people who hate so badly it hurts and people who hurt so much that they have to kill and transfer their pain to another and ignite a whole new world of hate. So she twined her fingers in Baby John's and let the tears fall for all the boys who have fallen and will fall.

* * *

As the benediction ended and the pallbearers began to heft up the coffin, Clarice felt Bernice's grip on her waist tighten. She glanced at her twin—Bernice was looking pale again. Clarice knew what was coming and, keeping her arm firm around Bernice's waist, propelled them both away from the crowd and behind a tree a few yards away. Bernice braced herself against the tree almost at once, her stomach already beginning to convulse. Clarice winced and rubbed her twin's back as she retched. She glanced behind her and saw that only a few people had looked up, but they all turned back to the proceedings before them.

Bernice gasped for air a few moments later, leaning against the tree. "I think I'm done," she croaked, wiping her mouth.

"Ya sure?" Clarice asked.

Bernice nodded, stripping a stick of cinnamon gum from her purse. "Yeah. I just…it just kinda hit me." She sighed. "You go on back."

"No, it's fine," Clarice protested, but Bernice shook her head.

"No; I'm fine, I really am…I just…I don't think I can go back there. Not right now," Bernice explained, sitting down and tucking her legs up underneath her.

Clarice nodded, understanding. "Okay. But if ya need anything…"

"Yer right there," Bernice finished for her. "Go on."

Clarice hesitated but returned to the group. Big Deal glanced up at her and held out his hand. She took it and gratefully fell into his chest as he pulled her closer to him, linking his hands at her back.

"She okay?" he murmured into her hair. Bernice wasn't normally the type of girl to become ill over something that upset her.

Clarice sighed, nodding. "She's all right…just doesn't wanna watch." As the first shovelful of dirt cascaded over the caskets, she winced. "Can't really blame her, either."

Big Deal kissed the top of her head, tightening his grip around her slender frame. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch Riff and Tony disappear into the earth forever.

* * *

A sort of finality hung in the air after the earth was smoothed over. Mrs. Wyzek, Graziella, and Maria remained seated, staring at the tombstone and the boys that were lost to them forever.

The others moved away, standing in clusters of twos and threes as they spoke to each other in quiet voices. Sissy glanced at her sister. "I've been meanin' ta talk ta Mrs. Wyzek…wanna come with me?"

"Yeah, sure," Anybodys agreed, allowing Sissy to take her hand and lead her towards the bereaved woman.

"Hey, Anybodys."

Anybodys turned and glanced over to see Ice. He was standing with Big Deal and exhaling a stream of smoke. Giving Sissy a look that told her to go on, she moved towards the now-leader, painfully aware of the skirts sliding over her thighs and brushing against her knees. "Yeah?" she asked, clearing her throat as she heard her hoarse voice.

Without a word, Ice held out a jacket. Anybodys froze, staring at the jacket in Ice's hand. It was just like the other Jet jackets; a blue body, yellow sleeves, and the word JETS embroidered in loopy white thread on the back. This was probably the smallest Jet jacket she had ever seen; no doubt meant to fit her instead of dwarfing her (although, unless she was very much mistaken, she'd never have to worry about it growing too tight for her). She looked up at Ice, quite unable to form any words.

He turned up the corner of his mouth in an almost-smile. "Ya won't need it fer awhile, but every Jet's gotta have a jacket."

Anybodys lifted a hand to take it, but something made her pause. "Ya mean it?" she asked quietly.

Ice really smiled this time. "Yeah. Yer one of us now, buddy-boy."

Anybodys's bony fingers closed over the collar, draping it over her arm. "Thanks, daddy-o," she said, allowing a small smile.

Ice nodded his head at her and moved towards Velma. Big Deal made as if to follow him but paused in front of Anybodys. He turned, something like a grin playing on his lips. "Yer knees ain't _that_ scabby," he said, winking as he moved away.

Anybodys full-out beamed. She knew what it meant; it was his way of telling her that he wasn't going to make fun of her for wearing skirts (not that she planned on making this a common practice), and since he had stood beside Ice and made no objection when he handed her the jacket, it meant that he would accept her as a Jet, too.

Anybodys, seeing Sissy gripping Mrs. Wyzek's hands and speaking quite solemnly, wandered over to where some of the Jets and their girls were gathered. Velma leaned against Ice, who was deep in conversation with Big Deal, as she talked to Pauline. Big Deal had an arm around Clarice's shoulders as she and Bernice whispered to each other in rapid Italian; they seemed to be saying _incinta_ a lot, whatever that meant. Minnie had her head buried in Baby John's chest, very valiantly trying to stop her tears.

The group quieted as Graziella joined them, dabbing at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. "I guess it's really the end now," she said, sniffing. "They're both gone. Forever."

"Not _forever_, Graz," Clarice said in an almost painfully bright tone. "Didn't'cha hear Ice? They're still here, still part of us."

Graziella sighed. "Yeah, I guess." She turned her head up to look at the sky. "Still…it ain't ever gonna be the same."

"No, yer right; there's no goin' back ta the way things were," Bernice agreed. _And don't I know it_, she was tempted to add.

Clarice squeezed her sister's hand. "Change ain't necessarily a bad thing."

"Oh, yes; maybe now we can make peace with the Sharks," Minnie said, her watery eyes looking hopeful.

"If they want it," Pauline said, sounding skeptical.

"I know they do," Velma said firmly.

"Yeah, I guess we gotta start movin' on now," Anybodys sighed.

"You make it sound like a bad thing," Minnie said, sounding surprised. "I don't think it's really so terrible to be happy again, do you?"

"No…no, I guess not," Graziella agreed quietly, smiling at the younger girl. She squeezed her hand. "Bein' happy ain't a bad thing at all."


	25. Epilogue

A/N: So, here it is…the final chapter. I would love to go on and on about the emotional journey this took me on and how you guys are just the absolute greatest and all, but I can't find a way to word it without sounding like a long-winded Hallmark card. This is, as of right now, my longest fanfic and the longest _West Side Story_ fic out there—although I have a feeling fell the angels will replace it in no time, heh. Speaking of which, if you read this fic, you will _definitely_ want to check that one out, because it's the unofficial companion piece to this fic and at least ten times better.

I want to take this time to thank all of the wonderful people who have ever reviewed this fic: **viennacantabile, xXc0okieSsNcrEamXx, Megfly, TurtleMoose19, SheWhoDreamsByDarkness-x, LoonyLovegoodLuvr, **and **beckylove**; special thanks must go to **Vee, Meg,** and **cookies** for sticking with me through this fic ever since I first posted it in February; the best thanks of all to **Vee**, without whom this fic would never have been written, and who has helped me through so much of it. Thank you all so, so much; I hope that you enjoy the final installment.

* * *

"_Now it begins, now we start,_

_One hand, one heart._

_Even death won't part us now."_

-Stephen Sondheim

* * *

Things changed unbelievably one humid summer night.

That was the last night the small things mattered. It was the last night of the times when the only things that held any importance were who had been seen with whom and what we were wearing and whose arm we were lucky enough to be hanging off of before we were passed to another.

The next night became a fight for our lives, a war against the world. The guys may have rumbled, but they weren't the only ones to struggle to survive. We were meshed in with the Jets that night, fighting to remain cool in the midst of a fiery inferno. And we came out survivors, outwardly sound but inwardly scarred. Still, we were alive, and that was all that really mattered in the end.

They say that summer is supposed to be a magical time and all of that jazz. While it cannot be denied that that June night irrevocably changed our lives, it wasn't so magical for us when two boys we loved with all our hearts were ripped from us.

They also say that June means "for the younger ones." This _is_ true. It was a bunch of kids who danced their hearts out, kids who arranged a war council and negotiated a fair fight and killed and were killed and fell into that miserable whirlpool of hate and anger and betrayal and murder.

And now our story comes to an end, and it is time you ask yourself: have I learned anything? Has anything been gained from what these seven girls have had to say? Or am I to be forever oblivious to everything that happened in the June of 1957, blissfully ignorant as so many choose to be? We leave the decision to you.


End file.
